Assassination
by The Author's Mighty Pen
Summary: Inspired by the Korean movie (same title) In May 1933, Captain Green recruits sniper Anna Smith, demolitions expert Tom Branson, and breakout expert Joseph Moseley to assassinate the head of the newly formed SS. Little do they know their mission is already compromised. Or the hitman Belfast Pistol and his partner have come to Berlin. Or that they already walk over their own graves
1. War Crimes

Nuremberg Trials, 1946

The pencil scratched the notepad in time with the drum of the woman's fingers on the desk. After a moment the pencil rested and the owner interlaced his fingers, finally looking up at the woman sitting across from him. "Ms. Denker, is it?"

"That's right."

"Why'd you come here today?"

"To do my duty."

"Your duty?" The man looked at his notes, pulling a file over the table. "According to this, you worked as a spy for the Nazi party since 1919."

"Technically it wasn't the Nazi party then."

"And, let me guess," The man spread his hands, "You just got sucked in and couldn't find your way out?"

"That's right."

"Ms. Denker." The other man shook his head, "We've got a hundred other people, just like you, with their stories to tell about why they beat people to death as brown shirts or why they wore the Nazi patch but, frankly, I don't care. I don't care what you've got to tell me because you're just another disgusting traitor trying to avoid the jail time she deserves."

He stood, gathering his things, "Good day to you."

"Mr. Spratt!" Denker reached across the table, seizing Spratt's coat sleeve, pulling him back toward the table despite the indignation covering the man's face. "I've got something those other hundred boys out there don't have."

"A lack of decency?" Spratt tore his arm away, stepping out of reach. "I should have them take you just for assaulting an officer of this court."

"I have information about Mr. Green."

Spratt paused, his hand hovering just above the door handle. "Mr. Green? The Chief of Police for Berlin?"

"That's right." Denker rubbed her hands together, "I can give you the testimony you need to prove what you've only been supposing since you started these trials last October."

"And what's that?"

"Information."

"Be more specific Ms. Denker or I go to see another man about what he can do for me and this court in these trials."

"I've got dates, meeting locations, and names for the Nazi officers and SS officials who worked with Mr. Green before and during the war." Denker tapped the table, "I've got proof that he used his position as Chief of Police after the war to silence all those who knew about what he did."

"Then how do you know anything about it?" Spratt retook his seat, "It seems rather convenient you could hand me Mr. Green on a platter without blinking."

"Well," Denker dry-washed his hands, refusing to meet Spratt's face. "I knew because I worked for the Nazi party as a spy as well. Not as high up as he did but high enough that I knew the lengths he had to go to so he could avoid detection and what they did to help him."

Spratt sucked his cheeks in a moment before withdrawing his pencil and notepad again, "Then you'd better start at the beginning Ms. Denker. And leave nothing out. This isn't the time to get nervous about your involvement."

Denker took a breath, "It all started when the German Army sent the Fuhrer to investigate the German Worker's Party."

* * *

September 1919

The general entered the dining room, giving his hat to his orderly, and shaking hands with the man in a suit before joining him at the table. "It's been too long my friend."

"Yes, far too long."

"They tell me your wife welcomed two children instead of one."

"It would seem my house couldn't be more blessed."

"Given the way our country is going, Mr. Bricker, it would seem two mouths to feed are more dangerous than one."

Bricker chuckled, "General Crowborough I believe that two more workers to help the country rise to its feet and seize its noble heritage is a boon and a blessing, not a bane."

"Well, if you're so excited about it," Crowborough raised a glass, "We'll toast to it."

The man at the table just behind them stood up, slipping past their table. And he would have moved unnoticed if he had not accidently brushed Bricker's arm. Bricker turned toward him, scowling at almost spilling his drink, but turned back to the table instead of confronting the departing figure.

As he did his eyes caught the abandoned briefcase. He opened his mouth to speak as the briefcase exploded. The table went flying, sending Bricker and Crowborough forward to smash into dining wear, chairs, and other tables.

Bricker recovered first, widening his jaw to try and pop his ears. He noted Crowborough, still as the grave, and crawled to his side. Pulling the other man into his lap Bricker called to him, barely hearing his own voice over the ringing in his ears. But when Crowborough moaned Bricker exulted a moment before going to lift the other man to his feet.

Gunshots rang out, leading Bricker to duck down slightly. He saw the guards besieged by a man with a black cloth over the lower half of his face and a hat low over his eyes. Bricker pulled at Crowborough, depending on the soldiers running toward the gunman to protect them, and dragged the other man through the destruction back toward a rear room.

Yells and howls of pain assaulted Bricker's ears but he kept his movement steady. He made it through the doorway, dropping Crowborough to the floor, and shut the door. His heart thundered in his chest, his ears still rang, and his hands shook as he maneuvered his eye to the keyhole to see the soldiers falling to the gunman.

Closer and closer he came to the door, stalking like a predator not to be deterred. But he missed a soldier in the corner and, with a shot so loud Bricker jumped on the other side of the door, the man went down. His gun clicked empty so he threw it at the soldier. It proved enough of a distraction that he could leap through the window, lost quickly to the hustle and bustle of the crowd outside.

The next few hours all ran together. Soldiers hurried the general away and Bricker's own valet took him back to his home. The doctor came and went but all Bricker cared to hear was news of the General.

Finally his valet returned, accompanied by another soldier, and Bricker sat on the edge of his seat to hear them. "Is he alright?"

"He was shaken and his ears are still ringing but you saved his life." The soldier saluted Bricker, snapping his boots together. "You are to be congratulated sir and know that the General was not the only one to notice your bravery today."

Bricker almost fell to the floor in relief and self-praise at that. It took him looking at the soldier's face to realize that was not the end of the conversation. "Is there, more?"

"The General's staff have been very thorough with their interrogations as to the identity of the bomber and the shooter. He was injured but the police lost the blood trail. As such we're still in pursuit."

"Good, good, the man should be caught and tried. Executed if there's any justice to the courts."

"Yes," The soldier shifted his jaw from side to side a moment. "In the course of our interrogations we've become aware that there must've been a security breach of some kind. How else would anyone know that you were meeting the General at that café today?"

"Are you…" Bricker took a deep breath, the blood pumping in his veins so loudly he was sure the soldier could hear it. "Are you accusing me of trying to kill one of my oldest friends?"

"No, sir, I wouldn't do you the disservice. We're wondering if perhaps someone in your household overheard you discussing plans. Perhaps took it upon themselves to make some kind of gesture in a direction that is not shared by yourself or your family."

"I can assure you, Captain, that there was no breach from this house." Bricker stood, holding the table next to him to keep steady. "We're all loyal patriots here."

"As I suspected but I must be thorough." The soldier saluted again, clicking his heels together. "Good night sir. I wish you a swift recovery."

Bricker nodded until the man left and then turned down the hallway. He walked to the back kitchen, pulling open the door to see a woman gathering bloodied bandages into a bowl. She covered it as she turned to him, dragging at her cigarette before blowing a rush of smoke toward the ceiling.

"Something on your mind dear? Dinner's not for another hour."

"Did you tell anyone I was meeting with General Crowborough today?" Bricker hissed at her, closing the door behind him and inspecting the corners to make sure they were alone.

"Maybe." She shrugged, taking another drag on her cigarette before putting it out in the bowl with the bandages. They caught, flames licking over them to turn evidence of whatever it was to ash. "But that really depends on why you want to know."

"I almost died."

"Would that be such a shame?" She sneered at him, "Given how you'd lick Crowborough's boots if he told you too."

"He's the key to getting my factory the business it needs to keep this house. To keep our daughters well fed and eventually schooled."

"They'd grow up with more dignity if you actually had a spine." She sat down, using a fork to push down the burning bandages, making sure it all burned. "And yes, I did say something about it to some friends of mine. It would appear they weren't exactly up to the task."

Something rattled in the pantry and Bricker grabbed the door handle. He threw it open and saw the man who had brushed his arm in the café. The black cloth dangling from his neck and his hand at the bandages on his side betrayed him as the shooter from the cafe.

Bricker gaped at the man before turning to his wife. "What's he doing here Vera?"

"Healing, as much as he can." She gathered the ashes, dumping them in the sink to wash them down the drain. "I'll be moving him tonight so you needn't worry about anyone finding him here."

"What've you done?"

Vera left the bowl in the sink, "What I thought was right. Perhaps you should try it sometime."

Bricker stumbled from the kitchen, putting a hand to the wall to steady himself. In a moment his back straightened and he returned to the parlor. He grabbed the phone, ringing the operator, and spoke in a low voice.

"Yes, General Crowborough's barracks please. Tell him this is Simon Bricker and I've got news about the location of our attacker. Inform them it's urgent."

The call ended quickly, Bricker darting looks over his shoulder while keeping his voice low. All his movements were furtive and when he heard the cars coming around he got to his feet. He walked outside, gaping at the sight of his wife and the nurse both taking a daughter before climbing into the cars.

"Where are you going?"

"The girls are coughing very badly. I don't want to risk them getting ill so I'm taking them to the doctor." Vera settled into the backseat of one car and Bricker noted the masked man posing as the driver of the other car.

"Why take both cars?"

"If he can only see one at a time I don't want to force the nurse to wait. She'll take the first one back home so they can sleep in their own beds." Vera smiled at him, reaching forward a hand to run over his cheek but Bricker just shivered at it. "We'll be out late so don't wait up."

Bricker watched the cars drive away, kneading his hands.

As it happened, the story Bricker told his daughter and anyone who asked, ruffians attacked both cars looking to rob the occupants. Unfortunately they had no mercy for the nurse or his wife, shooting both of them. His oldest daughter died as a result of the attack and the exposure while his youngest was lucky to fully recover.

What really happened was Bricker's men attacked the cars. The masked driver led them on a chase, giving the nurse enough time to run with the child and escape before he was shot down. He lost a finger that night before they caught him, dragging him away to the prison where he stayed three days before escaping.

Vera was not so lucky. The valet reached into the car, pulling the child free, and stepped back. He checked the child before handing it to another man and drawing a gun.

She snorted, "I always knew you were just as spineless as him. Do you even see yourself? Ready to shoot an unarmed woman. What kind of man are you Sampson?"

"Just close your eyes ma'am and it'll be over in a moment."

"I won't close my eyes for you." She straightened, holding herself high. "If you can't do it with me looking at you then you'd-"

The gunshot rang out in the night.

* * *

Two Days Later

He shivered and sobbed, his eyes blinded by the fabric they knotted tightly to the back of his head that throbbed and dug into his skin. A gunshot close by deafened him and he jumped. Another, even closer, and he barely discerned the sound of another body hitting the stone floor where he knelt on sore knees.

Someone crouched in front of him and he reached out, grabbing them with his bandaged hand and clutching tightly to the offered grip. He cried, tears soaking the blindfold and running snot down his nose. At this point he was far from caring about his appearance or dignity. He just wanted to live.

"Will you tell us everything you know?"

"Yes," He whimpered, resting his forehead on the shoulder of his interrogator. "Please don't make me endure it again."

"No, you'll endure something much worse." The blindfold came off and he blinked in the harsh light bleeding through the high windows of the basement. He jumped to the side, trying to escape the dead bodies beside him, but his interrogator held him in place. "You're going to work for us. Tomorrow you'll escape from here, a hero to your cause, and then you'll report to the square to leave a white 'X' on the fountain side facing the north. Come back two hours after that to receive your instructions."

"What?"

"The price of your freedom, Mr. Green, is that you work for us now." The man patted Green's cheek. "You'll get used to it."

"What if I say no?"

"Do you want to die?" Green shook his head so violently back and forth he gave himself neck pain. "Good. Then repeat the instructions."

"I escape here. I go back to them. When I can get free I draw an 'X' on the fountain in the square, on the north facing side, and then return in two hours for further instructions."

"Good boy. See, you've already got the hang of it." The man smiled, "We're going to do great things together Mr. Green. You'll see. Great things for the Weimar Republic and for the party that'll replace it."


	2. The Meeting of the Minds

Twelve Years Later

She squinted, holding her fan to stop the sunlight hitting her as the boat worked its way down the little stream. Her other hand kept a tight grip on a cane she tucked under the boards of the boat in front of her. Two men sitting on the side with their rods in the water called out to the man guiding the boat.

"There's rough water ahead."

"It's always rough here this time of year. That's why I brought my large oar." The men nodded, waving the boat onward, and the woman at the front grumbled.

"That's what happens when you leave the code-making to someone as useless as Mrs. Crawley."

"Be kind mother. She was nice enough to get us this meeting."

"She'd be nice enough to do anything when she's low on funds and support." The woman in the boat huffed again, "Dragging ourselves all the way to the south of France for a meeting like this one. It's preposterous."

"It's necessary if we want to unite our forces."

"Robert, uniting our forces this early is neither wise nor practical and we need to be practical." The woman adjusted her fan, "I always try to keep out of the sun and now, here I am, practically bathing in it to meet with a woman I don't even like."

"Then why agree to meet with her?"

"Because if I didn't meet with all the people I don't like then I'd have nothing to do with all my time."

Robert sighed, guiding the boat to a side dock. One of the men there grabbed the ropes and tied it in place, helping the older woman out first before aiding Robert. Both held out their arms, standing in place as the men patted them down, and Robert sighed when one of the men removed a pistol from his mother's waistband.

"Mother."

"A woman should never go undefended into battle." She held her chin up, "We were called to this meeting and I don't want to walk in like a fool and believe that there's no possible way she'd turn on us."

"I doubt very much that Isobel Crawley lured us from London to the South of France to assassinate us. She could've sent someone to kill us there." Robert put a hand on his mother's arm, guiding her forward at the insistence of the two men with them.

They walked the docks to one of the houses and took another frisking at the door. Robert waited for his mother to precede him inside the house and they took standing position waiting in the hallway. The men who led them into the house vanished for a few moments, leaving the two alone in the corridor.

"All this is for effect." The old woman waved her cane at their location. "She wants us to think she's got the power here."

"We responded to their request and now we're here as their guests. There's nothing insidious about it all."

"Ha!" The woman barked, "Nothing insidious."

"You always suspected everyone of everything Cousin Violet." Another woman entered the corridor, gesturing with her whole arm to a room off the corridor. "We might as well do this with tea."

"The much better to poison us with Cousin Isobel?" Violet leaned on her cane, holding herself back from the others.

"If I wanted you dead I would've had my men shoot you in the canal. Tea?"

Robert tried to restrain his chuckle at the way his mother barely kept her contempt down with a strain on her jaw. They followed Isobel into a small parlor and Robert waited for the two women to sit before taking a wingback chair of his own. Isobel managed the tea but Violet refused to drink it while Robert gratefully accepted it.

"I invited you here to discuss a joint venture." Isobel sipped her tea, "We're losing a battle against the Nazis and we need to strike a blow that will cripple them."

"How do you plan to do that? Take out their kneecaps one by one with your pittance of resources?"

"By recruiting a few people for an assassination."

Robert stopped with the cup close to his lips before lowering it. "Assassination? I thought there wasn't any of that going on with your group, that they were all clandestine information gathering efforts."

"They were until we discovered that the Fuhrer is forming a group of secrete police and investigators with the power to take anyone they want off the streets at any time."

"Our people say they're called the SS or something like that." Robert set his cup on the table next to his chair. "They're apparently a step up from the Brownshirts Herr Hitler used in the twenties."

"These men wear black and they're much worse." Isobel slipped herself over the seat, her fingers interlacing, separating, and interlacing again. "We need to eliminate the leader before they get too powerful."

"And what happens if we take out the leader?" Violet let her fingers grip the head of her cane while her lips pursed severely. "I don't know if this snake simply dies one a head is removed since it's more like a hydra and they tend to grow another in place."

"I thought it was two or three in their place." Robert tried to add before shrinking back at the scowl from his mother.

"The point is, we can't guarantee the success of our enterprise so why should we give any of our people to your cause?" Isobel gave a little smile and Violet gaped at her, "Why are you smiling?"

"Because I didn't ask you here to get your people to do this. I asked you here to convince other people to do this."

"What?" Robert frowned, "I don't understand. Who will we get that's not already working for us?"

"I've got three people in mind. One of them is a resistance fighter from outside of Hamburg but she's currently having a bit of a problem dealing with her superior officers."

"What kind of problem?"

Isobel shifted her jaw, "They saw she shot her commanding officer by mistake."

"They 'say'?" Violet chuckled, "Do we know what really happened?"

"They won't give me anymore details." Isobel lowered her voice, "It's all very personal to them so they won't say anything if there's more to the story than that."

"Who else?" Robert went for another nip of tea but shook off the impulse.

"We've got the other two from a prison in Vienna."

"We're really scraping the bottom of the barrel here aren't we?" Violet snorted, "That's why we can afford to lose them, they're expendable."

"Everyone's expendable in our business." Robert muttered, rubbing over his hands. "Who are they after?"

"We've got two people for them."

"I thought you said there was only the one." Violet tried to hold back her laughter. "Do the numbers keep adding like the hydra heads we mentioned?"

"In this case there's the SS officer and then the man working with him."

"Who?"

Isobel took out a file and handed it to Robert. "Inside you'll find the pictures of the three we want to recruit and then the two targets."

"Why give it to me?"

"Because I'm sending Captain Green to fetch them but I want you to meet with them at a little café in Prague."

"Captain Green is collecting them." Violet's eyes widened, "The one who escaped prison in nineteen-nineteen?"

"He's the one. He's been working with us since he escaped and been a very valuable asset to us in our attempts to stop the rise of this power."

"Why send him to retrieve them?" Robert flipped through the photos and withdrew the two of the targets. "And which one of these is about to be the head of the SS?"

"The one of the left, General Crowborough." Isobel pointed, "And the other is a frequent collaborator with him. He's an arms manufacturer named Bricker and we'd like to get rid of him too but he's more like the second bird with the same stone if possible."

"But he's not the primary target?"

"No, he's beneficial collateral."

Violet shook her head, "What have we come to?" The other two in the room turned to her, "That we speak of death like something of no consequence in terms of our enemies."

"Death comes to us all."

"But it didn't use to have to come so violently." Violet nodded at Robert, "You'll be seeing them in Prague. I'm going back to London to make sure I'm there to facilitate any further help Mrs. Crawley here is destined to need."

"You make me sound so feeble." Isobel glared at Violet as the woman stood.

Violet smiled, "If I meant for you to sound feeble I'd have said you were feeble, wouldn't I?"

* * *

Three Days Later

He pulled the wire from under his teeth and eased his arm through the opening on his door to work the wire into the padlock on his cell. It clicked as the man in the cell next to him pulled a piece of flint from a hole in the wall before stringing the wire from his shirt from the cell bars to the window before going back to the bars.

The man with his hand out the door squinted until he heard a click then nodded at the other man. Drawing his arm out of the door the first man waited in the corner of his cell as the other struck the flint against the bars of his cell to catch the piece of string. It fizzled and burned all the way to the window as the two men covered their ears with cupped hands.

A tiny boom echoed through the cell and heavy smoke poured all over the room. Inmates coughed and yelled while two guards ran to the cell filled with smoke. The first man stuck his hand through the opening, yanked the open lock down, and opened the door.

With the lock in his hand he knocked the first guard in the back of the head and then wrapped his arm around the other man's throat, pulling tight while the guard's hands scrabbled at the arm before his body went limp. He dropped the bodies, digging on their belts before withdrawing a key ring. With a smile he held it up, dangling it in front of the other man in the cell.

"What do you think Branson, should I let you out?"

"I think it was the bloody deal we struck Moseley." Branson held his hand out for the keys and Moseley flipped through them, squinting at the lock before selecting the right one. "Really going to leave me were you?"

"From one Englishman to an Irishman it might've been in the best interest of my nation."

"But not for you." Branson grabbed the first guard, pulling him into the cell while Moseley took the legs of the other. "I think the bloke you've got is a little more my size."

"So we'll switch will we?"

"Unless you want me struggling to fit into those trousers." Branson unbuckled the belt and slipped it from the loops.

"It might be funny to watch." Moseley laughed, yanking the clothing off the guard he held before passing it to Branson.

They locked the two guards in Branson's cell and then walked up the corridor. Once at the main door Moseley bent down, examining the lock, and then held his hand out for the keys Branson held. He flicked through the keys to select one before pulling one out.

Just as he was about to open the door a man in a long, black trench coat stopped right in front of the door. Branson tapped Moseley's shoulder and he stood. Both swallowed as the man held up two photographs. He turned to them and then back to the men before nodding.

"Tom Branson and Joseph Moseley I presume?"

"Who's asking?" Branson managed, putting himself in front of Moseley.

The man tapped a metal finger, held onto his hand by two straps, against the bars. "Captain Green. Isobel and Violet Crawley want to extend you an offer."

"And who says we want it?" Moseley swallowed, holding his head higher.

"The same people who an get you out of this prison and all the way to Prague before someone asks about those guards in your cell."


	3. Sharp Eyes

Two Days Later

Captain Green jumped out of the back of the truck, waiting a moment for the younger man to join him, and slapped his hand on the side to send the truck on its way. Green stretched, cracking his back before massaging at his hand with the metal appendage. He cracked them, adjusting the metal finger where it rubbed at his skin, and sighing as he examined the little village before them.

With a snap of his other fingers the younger man handed over the photo. "And we saved the best for last."

"She's not what I expected." The younger man tapped the photograph. "Not bad looking but not what I expected."

"No James, she's not." Green tucked the photo into his pocket, pointing forward. "This way then."

They walked into town, keeping their eyes peeled for activity, and eventually Green led them to a small hotel. Ringing the bell once, he counted three and rang twice, counted another five seconds before ringing a final time. He stepped back to join James, shaking his head.

"It's all this cloak and dagger that makes our job harder."

"Doesn't it also make it harder for people to find us?"

"Not if we're making a spectacle of ourselves doing things like this."

The door opened and a tall, red headed man stuck his head out. "What do you want?" Green dug the photo from his pocket and the gangly man nodded at it, "She's inside."

Green and James followed the man into the hotel. The tables near the bar were sparsely populated but they kept to the shadows anyway. Their path took them to the stairs, the ginger opening a side door and ushering them inside before following them.

"Bit cramped in here mate." James complained, shuffling back toward the wall in the dark.

"It won't be in a second." He struck a match, lighting a lantern on the ceiling before pulling at a cord to reveal a trap door. "This way."

Green turned to James, pointing to the ladder the taller man immediately descended. "What did I say? Ridiculous cloak and bloody dagger."

Green descended next, joining the tall man as he lit another lantern to light the tunnel before them. James dropped down, pulling his hat straighter on his head. The tall man held the lantern forward with his long arm.

"This way."

"You keep saying that mate. Don't you speak?" James grumbled and the man turned to face him.

"I do and it's not 'mate'. We're not mates."

"You haven't given us your name so what else should I call you?"

"I'm Alfred."

"Most people have two names." Green pulled to a halt when they reached another ladder.

"We don't use more than one with our job." Alfred blew out the lantern, leaving them all in darkness while he ascended the ladder to push the door above them open. "It's safer."

"Sure it is." Green took position behind Alfred, joining him at the top to blink in the dusky lighting of their location. "What is this place?"

"Headquarters and holding."

"Holding?" James snorted, "Smells like a right shit pile in here. What could you possibly hold in here that smells that bad? Pigs?"

"In season." Alfred led them through the mill of people talking in low voices or cleaning their weapons. He stopped them in front of a desk where a woman with a face like a storm cloud wrote something in a child's script. "I've got two men here looking for Anna."

"Oh?" The woman put down her pen, adjusting the sling holding her arm to her body. "And what exactly do you want with her?"

"We're here to collect her for a mission on behalf of Isobel Crawley and Violet Crawley." Green pulled a few pages from his coat pocket, flicking through them before handing the appropriate one over to her. "I'm sure you'll find the request all in order, if you missed the first message."

"We got it." She adjusted her sling again. "What'd they want her for?"

"I really couldn't say. I'm just the collector." Green looked around the barn, "Is this what the members of resistance in Hamburg are resorting to?"

"We do what we can with what we've got, Captain Green." His eyes widened and the woman nodded, "That's right, I know who you are."

"Then I'm ever more ashamed to admit I can't claim the same."

"Then it's a good thing my face wasn't on wanted posters like yours was." She sat back in her chair, "I'm Sarah O'Brien."

"I've heard of you. I thought it was excellent work with that Brownshirt Cell bombing."

"We do what we can."

"Then why is a capable soldier, like yourself, stuck here managing transfer orders?"

"Because I'm Captain Smith's commanding officer."

"The one she shot?" James interrupted and Green rolled his eyes, massaging his eyes while O'Brien gave James the darkest scowl yet to wither plants.

"It was an accident in training."

"Where is Captain Smith?" Green cut in, glaring James to silence. "We need to be on our way rather quickly or we'll miss the rendezvous."

"Yes, time is of the essence in all this." O'Brien nodded to Alfred, "I'd rather she not come back, if it's all the same to you."

"From what little I know of the mission I'm sure it's a suicide run." Green nodded to her, "Pleasure to meet you Ms. O'Brien."

"And you, Captain Green. It's not everyday you meet a legend."

Green snorted, pushing James forward to follow Alfred deeper into the barn. They reached one of the horse stalls, turned like the others into makeshift holding cells, and Alfred pulled a set of keys from a hook only he could reach before stopping at the desired cell. Green peeked inside, noting a woman reading a on a worn cot.

"Captain Smith, you're release is granted." She looked up at Alfred's voice, setting the book to the side and staring at the sight of Green and James.

"What kind of release is this?"

"A mission. Special request of Isobel and Violet Crawley."

"Then you're mad and a liar because those women would never work together." Green handed over the orders and she quickly read over the orders. "Well, I guess the end of times is upon us like all the churchmen say."

"It's a chance at something better than your horse stall, Captain."

"I guess it is." She bent under the cot, gathering a bag and a rifle. "And, according to this, a very good chance I'll be killed."

"There's a chance we die everyday. Why not go out in style?"

She hmmed at him, turning to Alfred, "It's been a pleasure Alfred. Good luck with all this. If I don't come back you're all they've got."

"I won't forget what you've taught me Captain."

"See you don't." She patted his arm, unable to reach his shoulder, and pivoted to face Captain Green. "Shall we?"

They exited the barn through a back door and started tracking toward a hill. Their progress through the field was slow, avoiding various animal leavings and mud puddles as the way only became more treacherous the darker it got. They had almost reached the hill when Captain Smith waved Green and James down, pulling her rifle from her shoulder.

Green, crouching low in the grass, worked his way to her, "What is it?"

"Brownshirts." She hissed, pointing behind them so Green could see the movements in the field they already traveled. "They've been getting closer to our HQ for months but never found it."

"Then we hope they don't find it now and keep going."

"No." Captain Smith aimed her gun in the air and fired, the shot echoing over the countryside.

Green grabbed at the barrel, forcing it toward the ground, "Are you mad?"

"It's a warning shot. They need the extra time to hide everything." She dug in her belt, taking out four shells and working them into her gun. "And they'll need help."

"We need to get out of here." Green tried to grab the gun from her grip again but she pushed him from his crouch with her elbow.

"Only four shots." She pulled a pair of spectacles from her pocket, one lens cracked, and arranged them over her ears. "We'll fire a flare to blind them and then I take out their main gunners."

"You won't hit them from this distance."

She only snorted and counted. A minute later the flare burst in the sky, showering everything with yellow-green light. Green watched Captain Smith position herself with slight adjustments while cracking off four shots. Each shot gave a resounding cry of pain as the intended target fell to the ground.

Lifting her gun she nodded at him, "Now we can go."

"You shot your commanding officer by accident?" James risked, ducking behind them as they climbed the hill.

Captain Smith laughed, "Who said it was an accident? I shot her on purpose."

* * *

One Day Later

Captain Green stopped the driver outside the café and opened the door to let Captain Smith out. "You're meeting's here tomorrow at ten am. You've got a room booked under your name so get some rest and enjoy the relaxation."

"Before my inevitable demise?"

"Don't be so dramatic. It's not inevitable." Captain Green grabbed the bill of his hat, nodding to her. "Been a pleasure, Captain."

"An honor, Captain." She returned the motion, heading into the building.

Green climbed back into the cab, clapping James on the shoulder. "I think we've earned ourselves a drink."

"I say we have."

Green leaned forward, "The Golden Door yeah?"

The cab deposited them outside the desired pub, Green and James finding their way inside and to a back table. Green ordered their drinks and sighed, "To a job well done and too many miles traveled."

"Is Mrs. Crawley going to give us medals for getting those three to this city?"

Green snorted, "We do a thankless job, James. We don't get medals for it."

"But it'd be nice wouldn't it? Acknowledgement for what we've done."

"It would be but it's not going to happen." Green slapped his hands on the table, "But we need to get rid of any information connected to what we've done."

"Right." James dug into his pocket, pulling out all the relevant documentation and Green doing the same with his. "Too bad we have to."

"Why'd you say that?" Green gathered it all, pulling out a book of matches.

"Because it's proof of what we've accomplished and that's no mean feat."

"We'll know James and that's all that matters." Green struck his match, holding it up to light the information but their server came by, chattering at them in Czech. He frowned, blowing out the match. "Alright, I'll do it outside."

Green stood up, "Order me a soup that's not got something still living in it and our celebratory drinks. Once we're done there it's the train back to France. We should be back right in time to get a new assignment two days from now."

"Yes sir." James smiled at Green as the other man made his way out of the pub.

Green reached the street, holding the documents in one hand, and pulled a cigarette from his pocket. He flipped the book of matches open, pulling one out to strike on the scratch paper, and lit the cigarette held between his teeth. Sending a few puff out of the cigarette he turned into the alley next to the pub and waited.

A moment later a woman joined him. He puffed on the cigarette, releasing it from his teeth to hand to her. She smiled, nodding her head at him in thanks before pointing to the papers in his hand.

"Those it?"

"All the details I've got about the meeting tomorrow morning." Green passed them over, lighting another cigarette while the woman flipped through the pages. "I expect they'll be less than pleased when you ruin their little meeting tomorrow morning."

"You've done well Green." She stubbed out the fag on the ground, tapping the papers against her hand. "Do we know the target?"

"Mrs. Crawley… both the Mrs. Crawley's are keeping a tight lid on that. I doubt anyone but them and the man they're sending to meet our trio tomorrow've any idea who the target is."

"Who's the man tomorrow?"

"I don't know but I've got my suspicions." Green dragged on his fag a final time, joining her in stubbing it out. "Might be Mr. Crawley himself but that's wishful thinking."

"I like wishful thinking."

Green smiled, "I know you do Ms. Braithwaite." He stepped closer to her, "I could make your wishes come true."

"Now that's your wishful thinking." She shrugged him off. "Your payment'll be where it always is."

"Thank you and the Fuhrer for it."

"Express your gratitude by getting your ass back to Nice and seeing what you can weasel out of Mrs. Isobel Crawley in regards to their target." Braithwaite waved the papers. "To get this kind of group together they've got to be confident."

"They're desperate."

"Even more dangerous." She snuck a peek out of the alley. "Until next time, Mr. Green."

"Until next time Ms. Braithwaite." Green waited for her to vanish before going back into the pub.

James looked up, "Is it done?"

Green nodded, "All destroyed."

"Good." James raised his glass, "To assignments completed with minimal trouble."

"To completed assignments." Green clinked his glass, "Minimal trouble indeed."


	4. Café Coffee

Captain Smith walked to the front desk, catching the attention of the woman on the phone. She held up a finger before speaking quickly into the receiver.

"They're here again. Yes, those Russian mobsters. They're terrorizing our staff sir. No I don't know if they're doing anything illegal. They're causing a disturbance. Yes, thank you."

She slotted the earpiece in the cradle before turning to Captain Smith, "Yes?"

"Room for Anna Smith?"

The woman checked her ledger and tapped her finger at a name. "Yes, room forty-seven."

"Thank you." She gathered her rifle- hidden in the wrapping of a long duffle- and her rucksack. Stopping by the desk she then turned to the woman, "Is the café still open?"

"Yes."

"Thank you."

Captain Smith crossed the lobby to the open café and searched around the room but all the tables were taken. Loud noises in the corner had her stepping to the side to avoid a rowdy group of Russians drinking down their vodka and sending the smell of pickled herring to choke the others in the café. A man at a far table stood up, his lanky form bending in half to grab a large bag, and he tipped his head at Captain Smith before leaving the café.

She spied his now vacated chair and went to it. The other man at the table flicked his eyes toward the Russians before spooning another dollop of cream into his coffee and stirring it. As Captain Smith took the chair he glance up at her, raising an eyebrow.

"I hope you don't mind." She pointed toward the Russians, "I'm not of a mind to share their herring, their company, or their table."

"But you'll share mine?"

"Your companion excused himself and I'm only here long enough to get some tea." She shrugged her shoulders, "If there's any of that to be had here that's of any quality at all."

He let out a snorting laughing, tapping his spoon against his cup, "You've not spent much time in Prague have you?"

"I just arrived this morning."

"From where?"

"Hamburg." She nodded at him, "Yourself?"

"Why don't you rest your bag on the floor and pretend you're staying awhile and I'll tell you once they leave."

Captain Smith followed his gaze over her shoulder to where police gathered at the door of the café. Something slipped off her shoulder and she turned to berate whomever took the liberty of touching her things but the man sharing her table shook his head. He stowed her rifle in the shadows where the table met the wall and shoved her rucksack to join them.

"What's your name?" He hissed but she shook her head. "They'll be looking for anyone on their own."

"Where's your friend?" She responded as he dragged her chair closer to him and draped his arm over her shoulders.

"He's taking care of personal business."

"The kind you don't want German police investigating?" She whispered to him and he only grinned at her.

"I'm sure you wouldn't take the time to cast stones from your glass tower with that lovely piece of equipment now carefully concealed on the floor." He turned his mouth toward her ear, whispering as the police drew closer. "What's your name?"

"Anna," She managed through the side of her mouth as the police approached them. "Good morning gentlemen."

"Papers."

"I'm so sorry, we left them in our room." The man held her arm, "Darling, do you remember where?"

"On the bureau I believe." She gave the police an apologetic shrug, "Should we go and retrieve those now?"

"I think we'll just have to ask why you don't have them with you."

"And would you also be asking those men," Anna pointed toward the rowdy Russians now joking with the other officers, "Also be providing papers?"

"That's none of your concern."

"It is if I know that I'm in a safe environment where due diligence is exercised." She turned to the man, "I wonder if we chose the right city for our honeymoon."

"I'm starting to believe we would've been better in Nice." He pushed his chair as if to move it back but the office held up a hand.

"Just continue on your day and don't forget your papers next time."

"We won't." Anna assured him, interlacing her fingers with the man at the table until the police left the room. She turned to the man, "I believe you now owe me your name."

"You're not wrong." He shook her hand before pulling it to his lips to kiss. "John and I'm here on business."

"I'll assume it's the kind of business that tells you what kind of device I'm carrying in my bedroll and assuming we're both building our towers out of the same glass."

"The less I tell you the better." He pushed his coffee toward her, "But I'll assume you're not here to pick flowers or see the sights."

"I doubt I'll be here long enough for either of those activities." She pointed to the cup, "Something wrong with it?"

"Suspicious?"

"The nature of the work I'm here to do."

John conceded to her point with a nod of his head, "I promise it's only cream and a bit of sugar."

"Did you add milk at the bottom?"

He frowned, "There's only a few people who do that and they're usually not from Hamburg."

"I said I came from Hamburg not that I'm from Hamburg." Anna sipped at the coffee, humming approvingly at the taste. "There's a distinct difference."

"Are you a wordsmith?"

"Not usually but I read a lot." She took another draft of it before setting the cup back in its saucer. "Do you?"

"Read?" He shrugged, "More than the average man but not enough to avoid the kind of life I lead now so I'll tell you my mother believes my University education utterly wasted."

"Do you?"

"No."

"I wish I could've attended University." Anna shook her head, playing with the handle on the cup. "My parents were forced to take me out of school before I could finish."

"Why?"

"Lack of funds."

"Common problem for the common man."

"Hence my profession." Anna reached for her things. "Thank you for the coffee John and the company."

"Thank you for the disguise." He stood as well, shaking her hand. "Best of luck to you in whatever you've endeavored to do here."

"And you… though I very much doubt our respective goals would meet the approval of the friends who made our recent acquaintance."

"Decidedly not." John lifted her rifle and held up a hand to stop her, "What kind of husband would I be if I didn't help my wife carry her things?"

"The kind who knows when a deception reaches its end." Anna shouldered her rucksack, beating him to grab his bag. "Fair is fair I think."

"Then which room is ours dear?"

Anna guided them up the stairs, darting a glance toward the policeman at the counter trying to calm the woman behind the desk insisting the ruckus in the café had, once again, reached an unacceptable volume. They reached the room and Anna pulled out the key, jiggling it in the lock a moment to get the door open. It creaked but held as both entered and she shut it behind her.

John set the rifle beside the bed and took a quick turn about the room. "I'll assume your toilet is in the hall with everyone else."

"I'm sure it is but I don't need it yet so I'll wait for that emergency to find out." Anna handed over his bag. "This is yours."

"So it is." He took it and their hands touched. For a moment both looked into one another's eyes and John opened his mouth to speak. "I do hope you're not the kind to take physical action against those who suggest the improprietous in your presence."

"Depends on the suggestion."

"Since we're both here for purposes that are distinctly deadly," John set his bag to the side and took her rucksack from her shoulder to leave it on the floor, "Perhaps you'd indulge my request."

"Which is?"

"That you'd allow a dying man a kiss." He stepped toward her, "Your choice."

Anna waited a moment before speaking, "Why?"

"Because we're both on the edge of something greater than ourselves. We're both staring death in the face and while I wouldn't dare to speak for you, I think we'd like to prove to ourselves we're alive."

"And you think now's the time for that?"

"Well," He grinned at her, "We are married."

"For the moment." Anna closed the distance between them, running a hand up his shirt to rest on his cheek. "And I won't say no to my husband. I promised to obey him."

John did not answer with words but they were unnecessary. He dipped his head and took her mouth in a surge of energy that left Anna using her free hand to clutch at his waistcoat while her other hand slipped to the back of his neck. The force of their kiss had Anna leaning into him, the breath leaving her body, and eventually leaving her swaying slightly with a lightheadedness she had not experienced in some time.

When John finally released her lips Anna could only stare at him. "Is that how you kiss all women John?"

"Just my wife." He winked at her and Anna used her hold on the back of his neck to leverage herself up to his mouth again.

They stumbled back, John barely catching his hand on the brass headboard, and landed heavily on the bed. He sat up and Anna maneuvered herself to his lap, refusing to give up her hold on his mouth for even a moment more than necessary. He groaned into her kiss and guided his hands to her waist to squeeze there.

The necessity of air forced them apart and both only sucked wind a moment until John finally spoke. "I think this is a little farther than I anticipated."

"I don't think it is but I'll respect you trying to be a gentleman and claim otherwise." Anna brought both hands around to play with the buttons on his collar. "I'm sure you're not new to what happens on a bed John."

"I'm not."

"Then I'll ease any fears or hesitant questions by assuring you," She pulled his shirt and waistcoat apart to spread her hands over his undershirt. "I'm not new to it either. Though I do hope you perform markedly better than the last one."

"How'd you know the man?"

"Grew up with him."

"Then you're problem, Anna," He leaned forward, covering her hands on his chest and leading them down to where they tucked into his trousers before setting his mouth to lay a line of kisses at her throat, "Is that you weren't with a man but a boy."

"More than likely." She gasped, running her hands over the scorching skin of his stomach and back under the shirt. "But you're not."

"Most assuredly not."

"Good." His hands worked his shirt and waistcoat off, thumping to the floor in a heap before breaking the connection of their lips to haul his undershirt over his head. Anna smoothed her way over his chest, licking her lips as their eyes met. "I think I want to appreciate my husband."

"I'm yours to appreciate."

She set her mouth to tracing the contours of his muscles under his skin. His own hands found the buttons on her shirt and pried them apart while he exulted in the attentions she lavished over him. Anna, for all her teasing, most enjoyed the rasp of his calloused hands over her bare skin and the more of it he bared the more she wanted him to continue.

Their position made it difficult to continue but they managed to shove his trousers down and work her skirt out of the way. Anna resettled on his lap, moving forward to rub herself closer to him. The heat radiating at her core met the pulsing arousal he sported for her.

They paused, grinning at one another until Anna placed her lips on John's. Their kiss moved slower than the last, enjoying the erotic sensations to counter the speed of their hands as they scraped and glided over one another. She ground down on him and John's hands responded by releasing her brassiere and freeing her breasts.

He broke their kiss to turn his attentions there. Her fingers raked through his hair as he sucked over her skin. When he took her nipples into his mouth she cried out and tried to sink into him to find more fulfillment.

Anna held John's head to her before shifting up on her knees to pull at John's underwear. He shimmed loose, trying not to lose his hold on her, and Anna risked a moment to stand between his legs and shed her own knickers. She settled back on him and he pulled away from her chest to stare at her.

"Do you feel alive yet Anna?"

"I'm sure you'll make sure I do." She wrapped a hand over his erection and stroke toward herself, "Do you?"

"I will." One of his hands gripped her hip and the other ran over her folds. "You're ready."

"We're going to die, I'd hope I was ready."

John took his time, building her up with strokes and caresses that had Anna keening as she dug her nails into his shoulder. Her own hand tried to match his prowess but even her lack of experience did nothing to dim the mood between them. Just when she thought she might break John repositioned them and thrust into her.

Anna gasped, throwing her head back to give air to her lungs, and tried to speak. When words failed her she rocked toward him. The movement gave John all the permission he needed to move and soon the only sounds in the room where those of their skin slapping to the echo of their mutual moans.

When Anna tried to feel more she wrapped her legs around his waist, tilting slightly to meet each of his drives with pressure where she needed it most. But John read her thoughts and applied his hand there to press and rub until Anna seized his mouth to kiss what she could not speak to express. He returned the motion with as much vigor as she did until she broke away to cry out her finish.

In the aftershocks, quivering and trembling around him, Anna dimly realized John finished as well. They remained intertwined, on the edge of the bed, until Anna finally managed to work her legs from around John's waist. Helping her as much as he could, John repositioned them to lay side-by-side on the bed.

It was a few minutes more before either could speak and John went first. "That was the closest to being truly alive I've ever felt."

"They say, when you feel most alive, you don't fear death." Anna scooted to turn her head to John. "Do you not fear death any longer John?"

"I think, Anna," He tipped enough to kiss her forehead, "The phrase is that you don't fear death when you've made love to a beautiful woman."

"You think I'm beautiful?"

"I don't give just anyone my coffee or my name."

"Then I accept both with the deepest of gratitude." Anna evened her breathing, "I'm assuming your friend is still waiting for you."

"He is." John sat up, taking Anna's closest hand and pressing a kiss there. "But after that I promise I wouldn't leave otherwise."

"That satisfying for you?"

"Enough so that I don't fear death." John positioned himself over her, "I wish there was a way we could meet again. Exchange names like normal people and set dates to meet somewhere beautiful and get to know one another better."

"In those circumstances I wouldn't have offered the use of a borrowed bed."

He grinned, "You did rather have your way with me."

"I did."

"I just hope you don't live to regret it."

"John," She put her finger over his mouth, "I could never regret what we just did and I never will."

"We won't live long enough for that."

"Touché." Anna sat up as John reached for his clothes, admiring him as he pulled them all back into place. "What'll your friend say?"

"Not much but enough to tell me he's jealous and disappointed." John shrugged, "He'll assume I deflowered some wilting virgin or something."

"Hobby of yours?"

"No," John shook his head, "Just assumes I couldn't get anyone of quality to look twice at me."

"He's wrong then."

"He thinks a bit like my ex-wife sometimes."

"Then they're both wrong." Anna crawled to the edge of the bed, supporting herself on her hands and knees as John bent to look her in the eyes. "I thought you were phenomenal."

"Thank you." He kissed her again, her hand holding his cheek to keep him in place a moment longer before he broke away. "In another life, Anna."

"In a better life, John."

She watched him leave the room with the sinking feeling she just met the man of her dreams and that was all he could ever be.


	5. Cold Feet

"So, I've a question for you." Moseley led them through the darkening streets of Prague, keeping an eye on the folded map in his hand to lead them to the right destination.

"Are we asking questions now?" Branson shoved his hands into his pockets and crossed the street, Moseley tailing after him.

"Just a few. Since we're in this together and all."

"I don't know that there's a 'we' about any of this and I don't even know what 'this' is."

"Then…" Moseley paused, "We're in this together then?"

"Fine." Branson sighed, "What's your question."

"Oh those are delicious." Moseley grabbed a package from the vendor and fumbled the change. "Want one?"

"Is that your question?"

"It could be one of them."

"Then no." Branson pulled up his collar as a gaggle of policemen passed, pretending to take great interest in the newspapers at the stand before leading both away. "What's your question?"

"You're fit." Moseley sucked a cheeseball into his mouth, nodding the greasy package at Branson. "I watched you do your exercises in your cell every morning so you've got a good regimen going."

"That's not a question."

"My question," Moseley dug around in the bag, "Is how'd you do it? I mean how'd you get your regimen? Been doing it long?"

"I used to be a footballer. Played until I tweaked my back."

"Is that what led you to explosives?" Moseley licked his fingers, wiping them with a napkin before tossing his rubbish into a burning pile they passed on the street. "Those were delicious."

"I'm sure you think so and no, the Army led me to explosives."

"You served?"

"Dishonorably discharged."

"For what?"

Branson grinned, "Insubordination. I couldn't take any of those buggers telling me I was less than them because I came from Ireland."

Moseley held up his hands in surrender, "It's nothing to me."

"Then you won't mind if I don't pay homage to the oppressive motherland and scram before our meet-and-greet?"

"That is something to me." Moseley grabbed Branson's sleeve. "We're here because someone needs us."

"Well I don't need them." Branson extracted his arm. "To hell with all of them for all I care. Let them blow each other up and see who notices. I'll tell you this, it won't be me."

"They helped us out of that cell."

"Then more fool them and even bigger fool me if I stay." Branson went to cross the street again but Moseley hung onto his arm. "Get off now old man if you know what's good for you."

"I'm not much older than you."

"You're old enough to be my father." Branson worked himself loose, "And I wouldn't die for him anymore than I'll die for you or for this stupid plan they've got cooked up for us. I won't be fodder."

"Better fodder than dead weight."

"What do you think happens to people like us in situations like this?" Branson waited, "Because we don't go home with medals or to beautiful women waiting to give us their gratitude in unladylike ways."

"Never been much for that myself." Branson frowned and Moseley hurried to speak, "Not because I didn't want it to happen it just… women don't usually throw themselves after men like me."

"I could understand that."

"Hey!" Moseley stepped in front of him, "If you're running now what've you got waiting for you? Anything better than what they could offer us?"

"Life and it's mine to live."

"We could make a difference. Matter."

"I don't need to matter mate, I just need to get back to Ireland and enjoy the green beauty of rolling hills not covered in death."

Branson got a pace away before Moseley stopped him again, both hands on his chest. "If you don't help then how long do you think that version of Ireland'll last eh?" Branson did not answer so Moseley stood taller, pulling at his jacket, "You might not be one for the Empire or the King or any of that and I understand that."

"You do?"

"You weren't the only one locked in a prison." Moseley gave a little smile and looked to the side like he was remembering something, "We've all got our quirks."

"I'd rather not hear about yours."

Moseley's face fell slightly, the affront obvious. "I wasn't going to tell you. It's none of your business anyway."

"Then let me go?"

"No." Moseley stood firm, "Because you and I both know that if these people get power they'll leave nothing untouched. They'll burn and bomb and butcher until we either bow to them or we're bones. I'd rather not do either and even if no woman ever looked twice at me for more than a moment I'm doing it for all the lads who might find themselves someone."

"Really?"

"And me dad." Moseley's mouth twitched slightly. "He's passed now but he always wanted me to be greater than I am. I admit I didn't do him proud while he lived but I'll be damned if I die without making something he'd be proud to call his."

Branson took a deep breath, nodding and stepping forward. "You know what, you're right."

"Really?" Moseley gave a half-laugh, "I was hoping-"

Branson's fist connected with Moseley's solar plexus and evacuated Moseley's lungs of air. Moseley's arms flew out, trying to flail enough to fight back but Branson held him in place. His mouth came near Moseley's ear and he whispered.

"We're being followed you numpty." Moseley tried to shift in his grip but Branson held him in place. "Don't look."

"Then what do we do?"

"I'll let you up on two and on three we run like mad for the end of that alley." Branson let his lungs fill, "One, two, three!"

They broke and ran for it, skidding around the trio behind them. The sound of feet on the pavement behind them had both men booking it for the alley. And for a moment they thought they made it when Branson leapt for the fence, grabbing the top to haul himself over before giving Moseley a hand to make it as well.

But when they hit the other side a gray-haired man leaned against a car. He smiled, folding his paper in his hands before nodding at the car. "I think you'd like to get in this before we attract any real attention."

Branson balled his fists and Moseley tried to copy him, hands shaking a bit more and appearing far less imposing. "Why'd we want to do that?"

The man laughed, "Because, Mr. Branson, I'm who you're here to meet." He whistled to the driver and opened the back door, "Quick as you can. We don't want to delay our third member or they'll think we've hung them out to dry."

Branson and Moseley exchanged a look before climbing into the back of the car. The man shut the door and took his position in the front with the driver. They weaved through the traffic toward a hotel with an attached café.

The man in the front got out of the car, followed closely by Branson and Moseley, and ducked back in the window to speak with the driver. "We'll be at least an hour William so find somewhere to hunker down. They'll suspect something if a car's just lingering on the street at this hour."

"It's dark sir." William pointed to the lit lamps, "What if you get into trouble?"

"It's nothing we haven't gotten out of before." The man hit his hand on the side of the car, "Go and park somewhere and make a round in an hour."

"Yes sir."

The car peeled away and Branson pointed after it. "I do hope you've not made room in the boot of that for our hapless bodies."

"Mr. Branson," The man sighed, "I wouldn't have gone to the trouble of helping arrange your release from the prison if I wanted you dead in Prague."

"You?" Moseley shook his head, "That was Isobel and Violet Crawley."

"Who do you think sent the order?" The man tapped his chest before extending his hand. "Robert Crawley, here on the united order of two of the most frustrating women I've ever met."

"They're tough old birds, that's all I'll say about it." Moseley took Robert's hand first, shaking firmly and then giving a little giggle. "Imagine me, meeting Robert Crawley in Prague."

"If only under better circumstances." Robert waited but Branson did not take his hand. He withdrew it and pointed to the hotel. "Shall we meet the third member of your team?"

"And I assume that introduction'll give us more information than you are right now?" Branson shuffled after them as Robert removed his hat and nodded at the desk clerk before leading them up the stairs. "Because I'm not as dazzled by all of this as Moseley here is."

"Hey!"

"Introductions need to be somewhere a little safer than we are right now." Robert led them to a room and knocked on the door. He waited a minute and knocked again but heard no answer.

Branson snorted, "Got the wrong room have you?"

"No," Robert tried the handle and then waved them both back. "I'd rather she not shoot either of you."

"She?" Branson whispered.

"Shoot?" Moseley squeaked slightly, covering his mouth when Branson gave him a raised eyebrow and scrunched nose. "I don't like guns."

"How'd you feel about explosives?"

"A little better with those, actually."

"Shh!" Robert knocked one more time before entering the room. "You're here to meet us, Captain Smith. It'd be best if you didn't shoot us before it all started."

"What's starting?" Branson and Moseley turned around the doorway to see a blonde woman sitting in the window with a rifle at her shoulder. "I remember my instructions saying the meeting was happening tomorrow… and not in this room."

"We take precautions with our precautions." Robert waved the other two into the room, "I'm Robert Crawley."

Captain Smith eyed his hand before taking it, "Captain Anna Smith, but you already knew that."

"I did but introductions are best served here." Robert pulled the other two fully into the room and pointed at them before shutting the door. "Tom Branson and Joseph Moseley, the rest of the team."

"Are they the ones you thought might compromise the meeting?" Anna lowered the rifle, positioning it next to the window, not moving herself. "I don't want to be looking over my shoulder the whole time we're working together."

"No, not them, but an organization stretching and straining as ours is might see to it that any little noise leads to a leak." Robert took a chair while Branson and Moseley found seats. "I do hope Captain Green informed you about your mission as much as he could."

"He said that Isobel and Violet Crawley wanted us for something." Moseley pointed to Branson and then himself. "He didn't have many other details."

"As they say, the best secrets are kept by one person. Or, in this case, three." Robert reached into his jacket and noticed how the other three immediately stiffened. "Just reaching for the details, no need to get jumpy."

"We're here on the orders of rebel leaders meeting us twelve hours in advance." Anna shifted toward the bed, "I'd say there's a lot there to worry about."

"Worried enough to sleep with a stranger?" Robert gave a chuckle at Anna's face, "I don't begrudge seeking comfort in the face of certain death. I've done it myself."

"Then you won't mind if I don't share details."

"I wouldn't want them since I'm the one dispensing details." Robert spread two pictures on the bed. "We've recruited the three of you to sneak you into Berlin and kill these men."

"Assassins?" Branson scoffed, "I always knew you lot needed someone small and easily gotten rid of for your dirty work."

"If you want to leave, Mr. Branson, the door's there." Robert pointed but Branson didn't move. "Then I'll assume you know who these men are and you know why they need to die."

"That's General Crowborough, head of the newly formed SS." Moseley tapped the first picture. "He's a right nasty who's been working with Hitler since his foundling days."

"This one's Simon Bricker," Anna tapped the second photo. "And I'll assume that's his daughter."

"She's not involved in this so she's not to be harmed." Robert sighed, "It was the only photo we could find of him but she's not the target."

"What if she's collateral damage?" Branson shrugged when all eyes turned to him, "Civilians get in the way sometimes and there are times they find themselves on the wrong side. I can't apologize if the idiotic get caught in the crossfire."

"You're not to open fire or harm any civilians on this mission. Is that understood?" Robert leveled a finger at Branson, "We're here to help the world, not leave more bleeding in our wake."

"That's why you brought a sniper, an escape artist, and a demolitions expert to help you remove this SS head is it?" Branson stood up, "We're here because there's killing to be done and you couldn't get your lily white hands in the mud to do it."

"You're here because you could get into Berlin, you could get close to them, and no one would know." Robert stood, "You're here because you once swore an oath to defend your country."

"See how I fared at that."

"Here's your chance for redemption."

"Who says I want it?"

Robert snorted his own laugh, "Because you've not walked your sorry Irish ass out that door yet, Mr. Branson."

Branson clenched his jaw and then sat back down, "Doesn't mean I won't scarper the first chance I get."

"Which is why you'll not be in charge of this mission."

Branson let out a guffaw and pointed to Moseley, "Surely not him."

"No, Captain Smith will be in command." Robert looked at her, "I do hope you'll accept the position."

"With whatever pleasure I could attempt to muster."

"Why her?" Moseley held up his hands when she raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm just curious why you're the best choice."

"Captain," Robert had a little smile at the corner of his mouth, "Please tell them what happened to your last commander."

"I shot her."

Robert looked over the room, "Everyone satisfied?"

Branson raised his hands in surrender, "More than."

"Mr. Moseley?"

"I'm perfectly alright with how this is going." He cleared his throat, "Might I ask how we'll get both the head of the SS and his machinery lapdog in a convenient location to kill them?"

"They'll be touring some of Mr. Bricker's factories before the wedding of Mr. Bricker's daughter, Jane."

"Who's she marrying?" Moseley gathered the pictures, studying them before following Robert's direction and tossing them in the stove in the room's corner.

"One of Crowborough's close friends and a rising star in his own right. Major Thomas Barrow."

Anna shuddered, "If we get a chance could we have permission to rid the world of him as well?"

"If it doesn't compromise the mission then we advise to do as you must but," Robert held up a finger in warning, "Proceed with caution. Crowborough is the objective and all others are secondary."

"Listen to us," Moseley tutted, "Talking about death like it's picking melons at the market."

"It's the world we live in Moseley." Branson expanded his lungs, "We're here to kill or be killed and I'll not be killed if it's all the same to you."

"Alright then." Robert pulled something from his pocket and laid it on the small table next to the bed. "We'll just need your signatures and then a picture. Commemorate the date."

"The day we signed our own death warrant?" Branson nodded at the paper as Robert withdrew a camera. "Don't need it for my scrapbook."

"It's for mine, Mr. Branson." Robert held out a pen and Anna dipped first, leaving her name quickly with Moseley following suit before holding it out to Branson.

"What's the risk?"

"Fate."

"We're already well past that, Mr. Branson." Anna took the pen from Moseley and held it out to him, "It's just your name and we're all in this together."

Branson took the pen, dipped it in the well, and signed his name before letting the pen drop. "Anyone else feel like someone just walked over their grave?"

"People like us don't have graves, Mr. Branson." Anna stood between him and Moseley as they posed for the camera. "We simply fade into the background."

"Then why bother with a picture?"

"So someone remembers us."

The bulb flashed and blinded them all together, imprinting them on the nitrate to forever bind them together.


	6. The Belfast Pistol

John finished writing and handed the folded paper to the boy, pointing to the top floor of the building. He nodded and raced up the stairs as the lanky man from that morning came to John's side. Handing over a small package he laughed to himself.

"Whatever happened to the girl from the café?"

"She's a woman, Henry."

"You haven't answered the question so I'll assume it was all good things." Henry chuckled, "Trust you to find a woman during a police search."

"She took you seat so she found me."

"Still," Henry clicked his teeth, "You managed to get your leg over today. Which is more than I can say for myself."

"It may surprise you to know but women find me attractive."

"Not those in their right minds." Henry sighed and reached behind him to adjust a machine gun. "I'll assume I'm taking the top and you'll manage the stragglers who escape?"

"I thought your aim was so good no one could escape you." John opened the package and checked over the guns before winking at Henry.

"I might take pity and let you have a few."

"How kind."

"Always."

"Unless," John paused, biting back his laugh at Henry's raised eyebrow, "You want to change it up this time?"

"No," Henry whistled, "I wouldn't dream of taking your glory of the Bel-."

"Don't call me that."

"It's what all the papers call you." Henry made a face that widened his eyes and pulled his mouth taut, "If they call you that why can't I?"

"Because they're not supposed to know my name but you do."

"And 'John Bates' is so incredibly boring compared to the prestige of 'The Belfast Pistol'." Henry nudged John with his shoulder, "I'd keep it. Make it your stage name one day."

"What would yours be then?" John loaded the magazines in the guns before tucking one at his back and holding the other loosely in his hand. "Not 'Henry Talbot' I'm sure."

"Oh, no, never that." Henry thought a moment, "Maybe something overly presumptuous, like Ozymandias."

"That's a mistake." John checked his watch, "Alright. It looks like you're up."

"I do love this part. The silence before the bell tolls." Henry clicked his teeth at him and led the way toward the building, bowing to John as he went to the inside of the building, "Go and get us that paycheck at the expense of those Russians."

John climbed the stairs skirting the outside of the building, using his hands at the railings to give an added measure of speed to his ascent. At the top he drew out his pistols, pulling the hammers back in sync as he ducked close to the windows. With his back to the wall he peeked inside.

The little boy weaved through the tables, dodging half-aimed blows from the drunks and skipping over their prostrate forms for those already succumbing to the lull of sleep. He handed a waiter the note. The man read it, eyes going wide, and hurried to where a man in a uniform tuxedo stood watching the raucous gambling and flagrant prostitution with a dour expression.

He read it and then started calling out in Czech to the workers and waiters. They made their excuses in broken Russian or German to the noisemakers and departed. In the quiet the Russian gangsters from the café went on their guard. Some drew out their handguns, holding them in unsteady grips or drink-addled hands, while others tried to find their more sizable weapons.

John counted three and kicked through the doors at the back. His hat pulled low enough over his eyes that none could see his face but he knew they recognized the stance and the guns. The ivory handle for Heaven and the ebony handle for Hell.

One of them spoke enough English, his gun trembling in his grip, to manage "Belfast Pistol" before John shot him. He went down with a groan and the others let loose with their guns. John ducked by a table and counted two before the lights switched off.

With a smile John rolled to his feet and followed the sounds to hit his targets. Their groans and moans guided his shots until the magazines on his guns clicked empty. Dodging a thrown punch he returned with one of his own, pistol tight in his grip, and heard the crunch of a broken nose before taking the butt of his other pistol to the man's neck. The choking noise that followed the second crack told him the man had less than a minute to breathe his last.

Lights flickered back on and John dived behind another upturned table and waited for the gangsters' guns to click empty. Within a moment they did and he, fresh magazines already loaded into his gun, spun into a slide on his knees to take out three standing with their empty guns. They hit the floor and the tables, sending chips and cards flying into the air while their more jumpy fellows shot wildly to send shards of glass from the hanging lights and the windows tinkling over the floor.

A few of the gangsters dropped their guns and went to risk their luck on the stairs but the rapid tap-tap-tap of the machine gun Henry wielded there sent them running back to John's embrace. Those with enough senses left to fire their weapons did so but they were down in moments, mown under the barrage from Henry's weapon and picked off with John's. When it all quieted, but for the sounds of creaking wood or breaking glass, John stood.

He turned, about to say something to Henry, when the lead gangster pulled himself from under a table. John and Henry raised their weapons but the man had his gun under the chin of a hapless prostitute taken hostage in the firefight. Grunting at them the man made his way backward, tripping and almost tumbling over the bodies of his discarded men, and moved toward the stairs.

"I'll follow him from this end." Henry went after the man as John ducked for the windows again.

Hustling down the fire escape he landed with a thump and checked the last of his magazines before shoving them back into his guns. The gangster appeared, the sobbing girl still tight in his grip, with Henry holding him steady under the barrel of his gun. As the man backed up John stepped behind him and placed the barrel of one of his guns at the base of the man's skull.

"Let her go." He managed in German but the man did not respond. John turned to Henry, who only shrugged.

"I don't speak Russian."

"I thought you-"

"Romanian."

"Bloody useless." John pressed harder, grabbing the man's arm to give him the idea.

The gangster jabbed an elbow back at John, who sidestepped, and took the gangster's fist as it scraped along his jaw. Stumbling back John raised his forearms in defense while the man abandoned his body shield to rain haymakers on John. Through his raised arms John could see Henry helping the girl away and he ducked one last punch.

With a solid jab to the other man's stomach John stepped back far enough to fire his gun at the man's chest. He stopped, clutching at the darkening stain, barely visible in the lamplights, and John aimed again to leave a bullet in the man's brain. As the body tumbled to the ground he heard a noise and spun, gun raised.

In one of the windows, barely illuminated for a moment before whomever else was in the room extinguished the light, John caught sight of the woman from that morning. Anna stayed in the window, the butt of a rifle held tight to her shoulder, and John lowered his gun. He winked at her, tipping his fingers against his hat in salutation, and turned to where Henry came down the street.

He pulled a fag from a packet, offering it to John. John refused, eyes still darting up at the window where Anna watched. Henry frowned and then followed John's gaze to the window. With a snort Henry lit the fag, blowing a smoke ring up into the night air.

"That's your girl?"

"Woman."

"Whatever?" Henry waved to her, puffing a moment before slapping at John's shoulder. "No time to moon over her. German police'll be here soon and we've got to collect on our prize for this."

"I know." John risked one last look but Anna was already gone.

* * *

Next Morning

Braithwaite organized her men, keeping an eye on her watch, and then dropped her arm in time with the second hand ticking to the top of the hour. Twenty elite police stormed the building from four different entry points. But the room under the name 'Anna Smith' was vacated and turning the hotel inside out proved useless. Especially after the hotel manager handed over the returned key with a note and the paid bill from the middle of the night.

She threw the glass globe on her desk against the wall, smashing it into a hundred pieces all over the floor while her assistant cowered before her. Whirling on the man she jabbed her shaking finger at him. "Get me a line to whomever is operating the signals for Green. I need it now!"

Less than a minute later the shaking operator stood before Braithwaite, barely stopping himself wetting his trousers, as she eyed him. "Get a message to Green. Tell him the sting failed and he needs to get us the targets for assassination or we'll have his head instead. Am I clear?"

The man nodded and Braithwaite snorted. "Good. Now get out and get it done or you'll head'll join his."

* * *

Nice, France

Green smiled at the joke, leaning back against the wall as James had some of the younger recruits listening in rapt attention to a dramatized version of their exploits. He laughed again but froze, smile still on his face, when he heard the sound of his telegraph.

Leaving them occupied he went back into his room, locking the door so no one could disturb him, and pulled the strip from the machine. He waited until it ticked to a finish and pulled it straight, penciling down the series of numbers and letters until he had it organized on a pad. A moment later he flipped the catch on his desk drawn and a tiny board popped loose.

He dug his fingers into the space to withdraw a rolled key. In moments Green kicked at the desk, leaving himself with only a throbbing foot to add to his distress Reading over the message again, hoping he had reversed the code incorrectly but knowing he could have done it in his sleep and gotten the same response, Green tucked it all away before burning the message and the translation.

Raking his hands through his hair, occasionally tapping the back of his skull with his metal finger when he reached the end of his hair, Green took a deep breath. Squinting at the sky he noted dusk on its way and unlocked his door before popping the latch on his window. He yanked the shutters open and crawled through the space.

The tiles under his feet groaned and he paused, biting his tongue to stop from crying out when one slid under him. Green aimed himself over the rooftops, managing to move quickly enough that none of the tiles broke or slipped loose, and managed to reach the third-floor windows on a far house. He pulled a knife loose from his shoe and jiggled it under the latch of the window to open it from the outside and climbed into the room.

Green set to work, digging through piles of papers and filtering through desk drawers. Darkness set into the room and he struggled to read anything, tossing the contents back into a drawer before stepping back to the center of the room. His eyes lighted on a chair and he moved toward it quickly.

Sitting in it he let his hands sink into the space between the cushions and the arms, smiling to himself when he withdrew the photographs. He tucked them into his shirt and went to leave when he heard the key turn in the lock. Diving for cover under the desk, Green crouched there with his knife at the ready.

"They didn't find anything but disappointment Mrs. Crawley."

"Honestly, if they thought we weren't ready for them then they're stupider than we originally thought." Green scrunched his body tighter under the desk as the voice of Isobel Crawley stopped just short of the desk. "Has Mr. Crawley returned to his mother in London then?"

"His telegram came just a few minutes ago. Our agents are on the train fro Berlin as we speak."

"Good." Mrs. Crawley paused, lowering her voice. "I'm sure you know what this means James, with the failed raid."

"I've got a feeling it's not good."

"Unfortunately it means that our little trap not only sprung them but it also tells us who probably betrayed us to out enemies."

"I know how the facts stand, Mrs. Crawley, but I still can't believe-"

"Do you have a pistol, James?"

"Yes." Green heard the shuffle of a gun pulled from the back of James's trousers. "It's not loaded but-"

"That's fine." Isobel took the gun, "I'll learn what I need to from Mr. Green with this."

Two sets of footsteps left the room and Green forced himself to wait until the door shut again. Bolting from his place he leapt out the window, shutting it behind him, and raced over the tiles back to his room. He barely slid through the space and caught himself on the floor when a knock echoed from his door.

Swallowing hard, and trying to even his breathing, Green smoothed his hair back and flipped his knife closed to tuck it into a pocket. He put his hand to the knob, willing it to stop shaking, and opened the door to see Isobel Crawley standing there with James behind her. Green forced a smile, "Mrs. Crawley, what an unexpected surprise."

"Is it?" She shrugged and pointed toward the room, "May I?"

"Of course, come in." Green opened the door wide and gestured to the nicest chair in the room. "I do hope you'll take the chair."

"I'd rather we shared your table, actually." Mrs. Crawley took her place at the table and Green worked himself into the tight seat between the table and the wall. "It gives me a better feel for the business we need to discuss."

"Oh?" Green opened his hands toward her, "What business is that? Do James and I have a new assignment already?"

"It's actually about your last assignment."

Green frowned, "They all arrived in Prague, I can confirm that personally."

"It's not about them getting there." Mrs. Crawley put her hands on the table. "It's about what happened while they were there."

"Did Branson start a fight with some Germans?" Green sighed, "He had a temper but I didn't think he'd-"

"Agent Braithwaite, of the Nazi intelligence division raided the hotel where we had set the meeting."

Green prayed his gulp was not audible. "They what?"

"Turned the place inside out."

"Did they get away?" Green leaned forward, "I know Moseley could've managed it and possibly Captain Smith but, like I said, Branson would've-"

"They met with Robert Crawley last night and are already on their way to complete their mission in Berlin." Mrs. Crawley pulled the gun from her pocket and placed it on the table between them. "What I want to know is how Nazi intelligence Agent Braithwaite acquired any information at all about the meeting."

"And…" Green nodded, "You think I had something to do with it?"

"Only five people even knew a meeting was happening. Myself, Mrs. Crawley, Robert Crawley, James, and you."

"And you believe that I would betray our cause?" Green pointed at himself with his metal finger. "Me? Who's given so much to it already?"

"Perhaps you think it's been too much and you wanted your fair share elsewhere."

"I'm fighting to free my nation from an oppressive regime. I have since I lost this finger and almost lost my life." Green stood, thrusting his fingers toward his chest. "I would give my life to do whatever I could to save what we could build when they're gone."

"But would you?"

Green seized the gun on the table between them and pointed it at Mrs. Crawley a moment before placing it to his own temple. "I'd kill myself first."

He squeezed the trigger and heard the click but no reaction. Letting out a sigh of relief he dropped the gun back to the table and slumped on the wall. Mrs. Crawley picked the gun up, nodding her head.

"I'm sorry that this test of loyalty had to happen but I needed to make sure I could interrogate Mrs. Crawley knowing I'd done my due diligence. It doesn't help to start a war when you've got vipers in your own house."

"It wasn't me." Green took a deep breath, "I don't know who it could've been and I don't want to imagine that any of our people would've betrayed us like this but I know it wasn't me."

"I know." Mrs. Crawley put a hand on his shoulder, "And you've done excellent work here Green. Take some time to yourself. Enjoy a day or two of rest before you go back to the field."

"Thank you Mrs. Crawley."

Green escorted her to the door and closed it after her. He sagged against it, raking through his hair again, and turning back to his room. After a moment he grabbed his coat and headed out.

Mrs. Crawley and James watched Green leave, Mrs. Crawley leaning over to James. "You're sure what you found in there?"

"Wireless telegraph with an identical system to that code machine they're chatting about in Poland. There's a panel in his desk with today's key but it'll be useless tomorrow."

"And you swear you saw him with that Braithwaite woman in Prague?"

James nodded, "Watched them have a nice little chat before he handed over the details he had. I couldn't swear to it being Braithwaite exactly since I've never seen her but I know the woman fit all the descriptors and was close enough to the photographs."

"Alright." Mrs. Crawley took a breath, "If he takes those photographs from my chair to someone tonight then you know what to do."

"Kill the traitor and silence the spies." James nodded, cocking his gun. "I know my duty ma'am."

"And what an ugly duty it is." Mrs. Crawley put a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry James."

"Better me than anyone else ma'am." James turned to the street, "I wouldn't want anyone else to do it."

"Then go and save those three so they're not dead before they begin." Mrs. Crawley watched James leave, shaking her head.


	7. Traitors in the Dark

Next Day

Green pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, trying not to look at anyone he passed until he reached the door he needed. He knocked quickly and snuck a look over his shoulder before the door opened. Hurrying inside he ducked a low beam and followed the man to a corner of the room where Braithwaite waited.

She drummed her fingers on her crossed arms and raised an eyebrow. Green swallowed and tried to speak. "I didn't think you'd come all the way to Nice."

"I wouldn't normally but since you cocked up everything else I'm forced to leave the comfort of Prague to chase you down here to get information you should have given me before."

"I have these." Green dug the photographs out of his pocket and handed them over. "And they came straight from Isobel Crawley's chair so I know these are the targets."

Braithwaite took the photographs and glared at them in the dim light. "They're not fooling around with protests or secret meetings anymore are they?"

"I guess not." Green shuffled, "I barely held onto my cover and I'm not sure I can go back there."

"You don't have a choice." Braithwaite tucked the photographs away. "We need to know what their plan is before those three reach their destination."

"I can tell you it's somewhere in Berlin." Green stepped back as Braithwaite passed him for the door. "And I know they were on a train either that night or that morning after they fled."

"How very helpful." Braithwaite opened the door and walked one step outside before a crack echoed in the alley.

Green hurried out and held up his hands as James stepped forward, gun raised. "James, thank goodness you found me. If you hadn't I-"

"Shut up." James bent down, rummaging in Braithwaite's pockets until he found the photographs. Tearing them from her, he backed up to toss them into a burning tray of ashes. "I know exactly why you're here and what you've done."

"What I've done?" Green tried to shrug it off but James held his gun steady. "What do you mean?"

"Mrs. Crawley knew you were under her desk. She saw your feet there and she never leaves her window open." James snorted, "She had me tailing you the whole time we collected Branson, Moseley, and Captain Smith."

"What?" Green shook his head, "No, you were there to learn."

"How not to betray our cause." James pointed the barrel of his gun at the dead Braithwaite and practically snarled at Green. "She was there in Prague. I saw you meet with her and hand over the photographs and details for those people we promised to help. Those we gave our confidence. You betrayed them."

"Listen mate-"

"I'm not your mate!" James fired but the rage knocked his shot askew and Green ducked it.

Taking his shoulder into a tackle, Green rammed his shoulder into James and they hit the pavement. The gun tipped from James's hand and Green scrabbled for it. James clawed at his back, pulling him away, but Green threw an elbow and cracked James across the jaw.

Snatching the gun from the ground, Green fumbled it a moment before turning to face James. The other man leapt for him and Green fired. James fell back against the wall, holding at his face and spitting blood as he choked and tried to breathe.

Green tossed the gun away, grabbing James by the lapels of his coat. Their breath fogged the air between them as Green shook him. "Why? Why did you betray me?"

James could only splutter and burble through the blood in his mouth as Green threw him back against the wall. He shook out his hands, the warm, wet there chilling him, and pelted from the alley. The death behind him meant nothing more than an escape.

Hours later, or it might have been minutes, Green stumbled into an underground pub. The manager tried to offer him a drink but Green grabbed him, drying blood staining the man's shirt. "Where's your den?"

"We don't have-"

"I know it's here and I need it."

The man barely shook loose of Green and led him to a hidden back room. Green dropped the man and immediately grabbed for one of the pipes. The women trying to smoke it herself barely moaned until Green sucked it down.

When his mind floated above everything else he slid down the wall. He breathed out, taking deep whiffs when he needed to breathe, and then blinked at the others in the room. Green snorted, flailing a hand toward them.

"You know, I lost my finger for them." He nodded, taking another drag. "And I gave everything up to try and help them. They wanted to use me and they didn't like me using them."

His head rested back against the wall and he smiled, "I guess they all need me now. They need me to stop someone dying. They need me to make someone die. They need me to give them success."

Finishing the opium he tossed the bowl away and forced himself to stand. "I guess I have to solve it all myself. With all I've got to offer I need to follow up on. Moving up the ladder, as one does, I can get myself where I need to be to ride out this wave."

Green flicked at his lapels, noting the dried blood on his hands and laughing, "I guess I need to wash this. Who knows, someone might notice."

* * *

Berlin, Germany

Anna shifted in place and blinked as she adjusted her arms to fold them over her chest. She glanced at Moseley, open mouthed as he snored softly on her shoulder, and rolled her eyes. When she glanced up Anna noticed Branson staring at her.

"Something you want to say Mr. Branson?"

"I've got a question for you but I'm not sure you're going to answer it."

"Is it about how Mr. Crawley had us taking multiple trains to get to Berlin?"

"That actually makes sense." Branson shrugged, stretching out the best he could on the small seat. "If we get there too quickly then we'll get snatched up. Take the long route and then we leave them anxious and bored. I've done that before."

"Then what's your question?"

Branson leaned forward, snorting his smile as Moseley slipped down Anna's shoulder. She nudged him back up and raised an eyebrow. Branson wiped at his nose and laughed a bit.

"What got your knickers in a twist about that Barrow guy?"

Anna turned toward the window. "I'm sure you've seen your share of stomping boots that you wanted to leave in the street."

"It's more than that."

"Is it?" She narrowed her eyes at him and Branson nodded.

"I've done enough things and seen enough people to know that you don't beg to kill someone unless they've done you wrong. Or someone you hold dear, wrong."

Anna sucked the inside of her cheek, "Major Barrow was Captain Thomas Barrow when I lived in Hamburg."

"What were you doing in Hamburg?"

"My parents moved there as professors." Anna shook her head, "It's not important since they're fine, as far as I know."

"You don't see them?"

"It's difficult to see people when you decide to become a sniper and slowly eliminate those you think are oppressing people."

"But a girl like you doesn't become a sniper or go after oppressive regimes without something significant happening to you." Branson opened his hands, "If not your parents, or you, then it must've been something that happened to someone you knew and actually liked."

"His name was Kurt." Anna turned her focus out the window, moving to slip Moseley more comfortably on her shoulder. "He lived in the shop below our flat where he helped his father make watches."

"Sounds harmless."

"Kurt was harmless." Anna let out a breath, "He was also mentally retarded."

"What?"

She nodded, "There was a complication with his birth, something about oxygen deprivation, and he never developed the way everyone else does."

"So what happened to Kurt?"

"Captain Barrow moved into town and his men took their pleasure trying to torment him." Anna shook her head, "One day they took it too far and when Kurt didn't fight back they kicked him until he stopped moving."

"He beat a mentally handicapped watchmaker to death in the street?" Branson let out a low whistle. "How'd you not kill him there?"

"Why do you think I joined the movement I did?" Anna licked her lips, "I actually got close to killing him once."

"And you missed?"

Anna shook her head, "My commanding officer stopped me."

"Stopped you?"

"We had a chance when we were taking out a supply line for his division and there he was." She craned her head back a moment, "He was in my sights and my commanding officer denied me the chance because she was worried we'd get spotted."

"Sniper like you getting caught?"

"It was a lie." Anna scoffed, "She was working with him, getting her graft off him. She would give him low-level information and then take her share before he would give her a bit of information in return."

"What did you do?"

"I shot her." She smiled, "One of the most satisfying things I've ever done."

"Then you want him for yourself, if the chance comes by?"

"I'm sure you won't be too irritated if I'd rather put a bullet between his eyes instead of allowing you to place a bomb in his trousers."

Branson shook his head, "I'm not overly frustrated by the chance that I won't be wasting a poofter."

"How'd you know about that?"

Branson laughed, "People like me usually know how to spot guys like him."

"Which means that the marriage of Major Thomas Barrow to Jane Bricker is nothing more than a cover for his true nature." Anna shook her head, "I guess he got tired of the rumors that wrapped around it all."

He shrugged, "I did wonder about why a friend of General Crowborough was marrying Simon Bricker's daughter but perhaps it's a way to cover their nighttime activities."

"You think they're lovers?"

"I think that you only arrange a friend to get married to the daughter of your military contractor when you need to put ugly rumors to bed." Branson laughed, "It's even better when I say it out loud."

"Why he's marrying her is not nearly as important as how much I'm looking forward to ridding the earth of that man." Anna shifted Moseley again. "In a few more minutes we'll be ready to move ourselves closer to our deaths."

"We who are about to die salute you." Branson nodded at Moseley, "Or snore on you."

Anna put a finger on Moseley's forehead and pushed him back toward the window. "We're all about to die so I don't begrudge him the sleep he's getting now."


	8. Kill Box

Anna pulled the strap on her duffle and grabbed her rucksack as Branson arranged his things with Moseley hauling a large container in the rear. They joined the crush of people leaving the train, keeping their heads down, and pulled their relevant papers from their pockets as the customs officer approached them. He stamped the checked them almost indiscriminately, the soldiers on either side of him eyeing the crowd instead of them as they muttered in German to one another. The trio passed without incident and Anna hauled in a deep breath.

They reached the station, standing close together as Moseley huffed under the weight of his container. "Where's our contact?"

"They told us to wait." Anna scanned the crowd, "They'll recognize us."

"Seems they already did." Branson pointed a finger toward a tall man with bushy eyebrows making his way toward them, accompanied by a shorter woman matching his determined stride.

"Oh, it's good to see you all." The woman took Anna by the shoulders and kissed her cheeks. Anna blinked and tried to pull away but the woman hugged her close, whispering in her ear, "Play along or they'll think it's odd."

Anna nodded and only backed away as the woman turned her attention to the other two. "It's so lucky you could all get away to help us. We're swamped and need you immediately."

"I'm sure you were." Branson helped Moseley heft the container as the taller man offered to take Branson's things. "How soon can we get to work?"

"Immediately. Come," She waved them to follow her and Anna kept to her heels all the way to a waiting car.

The man helped Branson and Moseley manage the container into the back of their truck before giving them a hand so both could clamber into the bed. Anna squashed herself between the woman and the door while the man climbed into the driver's seat. He turned the key in the ignition and Anna risked a look over her shoulder to see Moseley give her a confirming nod as they drove off.

"So what's your name then?" Anna's eyes glanced at the woman, visible only in her peripherals, and waited. "I assume you know us."

"Mrs. Crawley was detailed and specific." The woman nodded and pointed herself then the man. "You can call me Mrs. Hughes and he's Mr. Carson."

"And you're both working with their organization?"

"We're willing to collaborate for the greater good." Mrs. Hughes managed a little laugh. "Honestly it's the maddest plan they've ever presented but the one that might actually do some good at last."

"It's one man." Anna shrugged, "Not sure what taking the head of this snake will do."

"I see you ascribe to the theory that the newly former Nazi party is a hydra."

"I've heard they've a very ambitious science division."

"It's nonsense." Mr. Carson gruffed, "If anything their crackpots are just delighting in cutting open innocent people. They're vampires."

"Hopefully not real vampires." Anna took a breath, "What information can you give us about our targets?"

"We've gathered a decent bit but we'll discuss it somewhere else."

The car pulled behind a building and Mr. Carson parked. His door opened and he aided Branson and Moseley in getting their things inside the backroom. Anna slung her duffle on her shoulder, head on revolve as they ducked through the door, and waited as Mrs. Hughes flipped a switch for the lights. She waited for Mr. Carson to close the door before reaching behind a shelf.

With a yank part of the floor slipped up, like a released catch, and Mrs. Hughes nodded toward it. "Down we go for now."

The odd quintet heaved and huffed their things down the hatch. Mrs. Hughes found another switch and brightened the room with the harsh glare of a naked bulb. Anna counted the cots and noted the table in the center of the room. As Branson and Moseley found the spot for the container she took the cot hear the stairs.

"What is this place?" Moseley wiped at his forehead with a sleeve as Mr. Carson rolled a map over the table.

"It's our base of operations." Mrs. Hughes opened her hands to it, "Impressive?"

"It's a death trap." Anna pointed to the stairs. "Only one point of egress."

"One they can see." Mrs. Hughes rapped her knuckles on the wall behind her, "There's a secret tunnel here that leads to the sewer system below the city."

"Classy." Branson snorted, "I'm sure everyone likes swimming in shit to survive."

"At least they survive, Mr. Branson." Mr. Carson raised an impressive eyebrow and tapped the table. "We've marked the relevant locations for the next few days."

"How long until the wedding?" Anna stood, folding her arms over her chest as she narrowed her eyes to bring the map into sharper focus.

"Four." Mrs. Hughes pursed her lips and took Anna's chin in her hand. Anna tried to fight her but Mrs. Hughes held firm. "Your eyes are bothering you."

"It's nothing." Anna pulled out her spectacles and held them up. "I'll manage."

"Not with that crack down them." Mrs. Hughes wagged a finger at Mr. Carson, "Tomorrow you need to take her to the optometrist. We need everyone here fighting fit. I won't have a crack in some spectacles ruining this operation."

"It's never troubled me before."

"And it won't trouble you further." Mrs. Hughes rolled her shoulders back. "Now, three days from now, Mr. Bricker and General Crowborough'll be taking a tour of his factories."

She traced her finger along the indicated route on the map. "The Fuhrer himself'll taking the tour in two weeks and the General wants nothing left to chance so he's taking the tour."

"Critical control points they've identified thus far are marked." Mr. Carson indicated the spots on the map. "They're running it like a trial to find more but it's also an inspection."

"Do they have doubts about the honesty of their friend?" Branson cracked his neck, "I guess no honor among thieves."

"What we know is that an attack from the road'll be difficult but once they're in the factory it'll be impossible." Mrs. Hughes motioned to the locations. "They're guarding the main roadways since there's been some unrest lately and they know that word of the Fuhrer's visit might spark something from a few less impressed groups."

"Like ourselves." Anna bent toward the map and tapped a point. "This is a petrol station yes?"

"One of two on the route."

Anna checked the distances before setting her finger on the location. "This is it. We'll strike here."

"We'd have to control the petrol station." Branson ran a hand through his hair, scruffing it at the back. "We'd need someone on the pump itself and someone to keep whomever runs it occupied."

"Our first problem is getting them there." Mrs. Hughes pointed to another petrol station, far off the route. "The cars only use this station. They control it and they'll have already filled up. They'll have no reason to stop here."

"Unless we give it to them." Anna folded her arms again, holding them close to her body. "We'll need a way to drain enough petrol that they'll have to fill up there. Send them far enough out of the way of their route that they need to stop."

"I could rig something to take out a lead and tailing car." Branson counted on his fingers. "If Bricker and Crowborough take the same car then I'll just get rid of their security on either side."

"If they hunker down in the car for safety then I'll have to make those shots through the glass." Anna shook her head, "I'll need to analyze the area. We need to see it before I can make determination at to angle."

"What if we could get them in the open?" Moseley mused and all turned to him. He jumped a little, patting the flat of his hands down his waistcoat. "I mean, I could man the pumps. They'll all be frightened as the cars about them go up in smoke. I usher them toward the station and then they're out in the open."

"Moving targets." Anna bit the inside of her cheek, "It'd daring. If they sprint I may not have time to take out both targets."

"Then you just chase them to whomever's waiting inside the station." Branson smiled, "Get me a bike and I can take out both cars, swinging back around in time to pick off whomever's left."

"Still," Anna turned to Mrs. Hughes, "We need to trace this route."

"They'll notice."

"Not if we do it backward and stop at the petrol station." Anna circled the indicated area, "We only need to survey our kill box. That's all."

"Then let's get to work." Branson took a metal hammer from a shelving unit and brought it down on the top of the container Moseley helped him move earlier. The top splintered and he knocked the pieces away to pull out his equipment. He held up the oilpaper. "We've not much time."

* * *

Prague, Same Day

Green blinked, holding his head as he nursed a glass on the table in front of him. A tall, lanky man took the seat opposite him and pointed to the drink. "It usually works better inside you. At least that's what they say when they're not trying to tell us it's the devil's drink."

"You got my message." Green took a sip, hissing at the burn in his throat while the other man interlaced his fingers and crossed one leg over the other.

"The Belfast Pistol isn't one to just show up at any event with nothing but a name and money dangling in front of him."

Green frowned, "You're not the Belfast Pistol?"

"Heavens no." The man laughed, "I don't claim to that kind of fame."

"What kind of fame do you claim?" Green closed his eyes, pressing his palm to his forehead as the other man clicked his tongue against his teeth in a disparaging noise.

"Don't speak so loudly. It'll hurt your head."

"The drink's not helping."

"Neither did the laudanum or opium that you took." The other man waved off Green's startled reaction, "Please, it's not like I haven't indulged. I believe one should take all of life's pleasures for as long as he can. We're here for a good time, not a long one."

"Is that what your Pistol thinks?"

"I work a machine gun. I don't care for pistols." The man jabbed his finger at the table. "But what is it that a man, like yourself, needs from the Pistol anyway?"

"I'm on assignment from Mrs. Isobel Crawley." Green dug into his pocket and pulled out some photographs. "These are three known antagonists who are detrimental to her cause. She'd like them eliminated."

"And surely the intrepid Captain Green is up for the job." The man slid the photographs over one another, frowning slightly at one before tucking them into his pocket. "Hiring us seems like a waste of your natural resources doesn't it?"

"It's necessary since you're not the kind that gets noticed." Green pulled a stack of bills from another pocket and passed them under the table. "That's the first third. Same price for all of them."

The man flipped through the money, giving an impressed upturn of his bottom lip before slipping it in with the photographs. "For this pretty penny I'm guessing you're depending on expediency?"

"And efficiency."

"That's never been a problem for us." The man set his leg down and pressed on his knees to stand. "I'm sure, if these three are antagonists for you, they won't be once we're done."

"I'd hope that's what I paid for." Green knocked back the rest of his glass, scrunching his face before extending his hand. "The resistance efforts thank you for your service."

"That's the problem with you patriots." The man dropped the handshake quickly. "You're so idealistic. You don't see the truth staring you in the face."

"That our future lies in being mercenaries like yourself?"

"No," The man shrugged, "That there's never an end to your idealism. With us there's job and it's completed. With you it's always another battle, another enemy, another target. There's no end to your goal because the target keeps moving."

"At least we have goals."

"It's exhausting." The man nodded, "We'll let you know when we succeed."

"I'm sure you will." Green waited for the man to leave before walking to the bar. He waved for the man there and pointed, "May I use your phone? It's an emergency?"

The man shrugged and Green ducked under the bar to pull it free of the cradle. Holding it to his ear he put his finger in the slots, pulling the rotor over until all the numbers chimed through. He waited a moment until a voice spoke over the end of the line.

"This is Alex Green speaking for Richard Carlisle." The line clicked a few times before connecting and Green ran a hand over his face. He noted the slight tremor but clenched his fist when a voice sounded on the other end. "Mr. Carlisle, I know Ms. Braithwaite never introduced us but I've some information for you that I think you'll want to hear in person."

* * *

Berlin, Same Day

Anna shaded her eyes and looked up at the buildings. "It's not a bad point from there."

"It's the tallest building in the immediate vicinity." Mrs. Hughes nodded toward the shaded porch on the third floor. "It's the best vantage point since it gives you height."

"I need to check the coverage of the street." Anna stopped, looking at Branson and Moseley. "Run the route from the road and back here. I need to know how long it'll take you walking, riding, and driving."

"Get it down to the second." Moseley nodded, "It's all about timing."

"Good." Anna and Mrs. Hughes walked the length of the building, turning at the alley to climb the rickety wooden stairs on the side to gain the third floor.

They edged inside the storeroom, careful not to touch anything, and Anna opened one of the windows to get out onto the porch. She walked the length, her gaze on the road below. Branson and Moseley walked the distance, Moseley writing something as Branson measured his steps, and Anna tracked them.

Reaching into her bag she brought out a pair of field glasses, putting them to her eyes to get detail from the street. Anna tracked one car that passed, marking its progress, and nodded. "This'll do."

"We'll need a better escape for you than just those back stairs." Mrs. Hughes stepped back so Anna could climb back through the window. "If you've got to manage that window you'll be trapped here."

"That's if they see me." Anna held her arm toward the window. "I could get both of them through the car windows from there, no problem."

"Is that before or after Mr. Branson blows their cars to kingdom come?"

"It won't matter. The distance and the angle are perfect for me." Anna walked to the stairs and pointed toward the building across the alley. "What's that distance, do you think?"

"Maybe eight feet." Mrs. Hughes shrugged, "If you had enough speed you could conceivable jump it and run the rooftop to get away."

"I'd be exposed the whole way."

"It's not a great route but it is one."

"And there?" Anna walked to the end of the little balcony, noting how it wrapped the back of the building. "Is there any way out there?"

"The alley below us just snakes back around the building to spit you out further up the street." Mrs. Hughes frowned, "You can't be thinking about running toward the enemy."

"It's all just options, Mrs. Hughes." Anna descended the stairs, meeting Branson and Moseley on the road. "Time?"

"If they're driving then expect less than three minutes between first signal and go time." Moseley scratched a few more figures. "If we get Branson a motorbike he'll attract too much attention so we'll have to settle for a regular bicycle."

"The mailmen ride them." Mrs. Hughes suggested, "We could get him a uniform and then no one would think it odd to see someone riding that closely to military vehicles."

"What about the bombs?" Anna lowered her voice, "If you're pedaling then you could get caught in the blast."

"I can set the caps, it won't be a problem." Branson furrowed his brow and jerked his head behind him, toward the station. "My worry's the station. We can't get all those people under our control."

"There's only the one attendant."

"And his daughter." Mrs. Hughes nodded, "Mr. Branson's right, it'll be difficult and some force may be required."

"We're not hurting civilians." Anna warned, "Whatever action we take is strictly non-combative where they're concerned."

"I wasn't suggesting killing anyone." Branson held up his hands as if to push Anna off. "I was just suggesting we might have to consider restraints."

"And gags." Moseley nodded, turning to the side, "I love chestnuts."

Anna shook her head, rubbing at her forehead. "We need to sabotage the vehicles tomorrow, to make sure they'll have to stop here. Day after they come through and we take out our targets. We're on a train to Hamburg and we get our boat up the Elbe so we're out in the North Sea before anyone realizes we were involved."

"I like the sound of a bit of sailing." Moseley came back, offering the bag of chestnuts to the others. "Interested?"

They all just shook their heads.


	9. Tyrants in the Light

Prague, Same Day

John adjusted the uniform and put the hat under his arm as he exited the restroom. Talbot leaned on the wall, in a matching uniform, and matched John's pace to the train. "I think we got a good deal on these."

"I tend to find the dead don't really offer you anything but a good deal on clothing they no longer need." John checked the tickets before pointing toward their carriage. "But you did wrangle a decent deal."

"It's why you keep me along." Talbot opened the door and preceded John inside. "That and how I handle my gun."

"Better than you handle German or Russian, apparently." John taunted, taking the seat across from him.

Talbot jabbed a finger at John, "You don't speak Russian either so I'd rather you not take the mickey out on me about that."

"You're supposed to speak all the languages that I don't."

"That wasn't in the job description when I took on as your caddy."

"Then I should revise the terms of the agreement." John smiled as the train lurched forward, pushing him back against his seat. "We've got a few hours if you want to discuss it."

"I'd like to discuss how that woman somehow got you between her legs in less than an hour before she raced herself to Berlin to betray a freedom organization." Talbot removed the photographs from his pocket, holding up the one with Anna's face visible behind the scope of a rifle. "Rather an odd coincidence wouldn't you say?"

"I'd say it would've been less problematic if you'd stayed and not abandoned me to the German police in that café in Prague. We wouldn't be in this mess then." John swiped the photographs, looking over the other two men.

"So it's my fault you couldn't ignore the all of death in some way other than a woman's arms?"

"We were both consenting adults."

"Who both happen to be killers." Talbot opened his hands, "Should I send out the invitations to your wedding because you're so obviously made for one another?"

"It's usually frowned upon to discuss marriage with a woman you're probably going to kill." John went to glance at the photographs until he noted Talbot's face, "What?"

" _Probably_?"

John shrugged, "What?"

"You just used the words _probably going to kill_ instead of definitely going to kill." Talbot waved the stack of bills at him. "There are two more of these waiting for us when we finish this job and you're giving me _probably_?"

"She's a sniper and so she might see us coming."

"Not if you were as good as you claim to be." Talbot smiled at John but his brow furrowed in confusion.

"I'm not sure I know what you're getting at."

"She'll be helpless against you."

"I don't think so."

"If you were really the Casanova I'm sure you were then she'll just drop her knickers at the sight of you and you get her right between the eyes. Easy as that. Just aim and fire, like always." Talbot shrugged, "I admit that this time she's far more attractive than others we've done in similar circumstances but the women in Hawaii are gorgeous too and we'll finally have the money to go there."

"I'm just trying to get back to Ireland."

"Right," Talbot snapped his fingers, "Your elusive sheep farm."

"It was my mother's dream."

"And I'm sure she's very proud about how you're going about it."

"Now listen here, it's-" John cut off his statement when they heard the carriage next to theirs open and a man inquiring inside. John tucked the photographs away and drew out his papers as a man in uniform entered the carriage. He stared at them a moment before pointing to the seat next to John and speaking in German.

"I hope this one's not taken."

"It's all yours." John shifted, moving to sit by Talbot as the other man sat.

He smoothed his hair down and cracked his neck before smiling at them. "And what brings two soldiers like yourself to Prague?"

Talbot swallowed and John took over the conversation, his German flowing easily and without accent. "We were on leave. Just finished a stint in the North Sea and now we're going back to Berlin before continuing on Hamburg."

"Ah yes, Navy." The man crossed one leg over the other, "And your friend? Does he speak?"

"Usually except he recently discovered his allergy to fish. Swelled up his throat so much he's been silent for days. When he does start talking though…" John shuddered, "I consider it a miracle the man finally shut up."

"I see." The man smiled, "I apologize, I'm so rude for not introducing myself when I took space in your carriage. I'm Major Thomas Barrow"

"Then I should address you as sir." John pointed to himself, "I'm Captain Bernhard and this is Lieutenant Truman."

"The pleasure is all mine, to share the carriage with you both then." John noted the way Barrow's eyes traveled up and down Talbot's form. "I had feared I would have to sequester myself away in one of the other carriages."

"Perhaps they'd be quieter."

"Not for me." Barrow snorted, "All those Jews making noise while they try to steal your wallet. And the smell… it's enough to drive someone mad."

"Is it?" John managed a tight smile, "I hadn't noticed."

"I notice." Barrow tapped the side of his nose, "It's why I'm one of General Crowborough's trusted men on that front."

"Which front?"

Barrow blinked, "The Jewish front. They're trying to take our country from us and we're taking it back. They already took our money and our dignity. I'll be damned if they take anything more."

"Are you on any of those special squads then?" John pointed to the pins on Barrow's uniform. "If I know those insignias they're commendations for work well done."

"They're proof that I can do my part."

"And which part is that?"

Barrow smiled, "Killing Jews."

"And how many Jews would you say you've killed?"

Barrow counted in his head and then held up three fingers. "It's not much but the number'll grow."

"I'm sure it will." John swallowed, grinding his teeth. "I'm sure it will."

* * *

Berlin, That Night

Anna rubbed at her eyes and studied the map again. She traced the route with her finger, counting slowly, and finally pushed back from the table. Someone knocked on the wall and she turned to see Branson there.

"You'll strain your eyes studying that in the dark."

"Not sure that matters in the end." Anna rubbed at her eyes a moment before nodding toward him. "I thought you were going out."

"I went out." Branson jerked a thumb toward the stairs. "They're having a right party up there and I think we should join them."

"Why?"

"Because Moseley's cavorting up there like a fool and if we don't save him he'll just make an embarrassing mess of himself." Anna snorted as Branson extended her his hand, "Would you?"

"How is a girl to refuse?"

Anna followed Branson up the stairs and into the main room of the restaurant. Tables rested against walls as the radio played dancing tunes. Her eyes quickly found Moseley, flinging his arms over his head and yipping in time with the signals to jump, and Anna could barely contain her laughter. His antics gave him a wide berth on the floor and Branson bent to whisper in Anna's ear.

"I think someone spiked his punch."

"Good for him." Anna took a deep breath, "We're going to die and he's enjoying it to the last. It's what we should all do."

"Then, Captain," Branson gave a dramatic bow and held his hand out to her. "Would you do me the great honor of dancing with me?"

"I will." Anna took his hand and allowed Branson to take her to the floor. "Where did you learn to dance?"

"Where any boy learns. At his mother's side and with the few girls willing to take a chance on him." Branson spun Anna out before bringing her back in. "And it helped me get a few girls after that."

"Any of those girls get you into trouble?"

Branson grinned, "More than I should say and fewer than I'd like to admit."

"So you've made your way around many a dance floor like this one?"

"I have." Branson paused, dipping her in time with the music, "But I promise my intentions with you are entirely honorable."

"Not sure if you mean that." Anna rose, Not if the stories I heard about you are true."

"Oh?" Branson ducked under her arm, moving around her back before spinning in front of her again, "And what stories are those?"

"The ones Moseley told me when you were out getting your fun." Anna held Branson's gaze. "The one that says you lost the woman you love to the Nazis."

Branson bit down on his jaw, a muscle in his cheek flexing. "Moseley should learn to keep his mouth shut."

"He should also learn not to indulge in the punch but it's a bit late to warn him there." Anna pulled them to a stop as the music ended. "What happened?"

"She was a nice German girl. Beautiful." Branson shook his head, "She happened to also be a Jewish girl and so they sent her to a special neighborhood."

"What happened then?"

"A few of her German guards decided that a girl walking alone at night needed some protecting. When she refused they took what they wanted from her and left her in the street." Branson hung his head, "She died three days later, bleeding out slowly because of what they did to her."

Anna nodded, "Then you understand why we're doing this."

"I understand that I want nothing more than burn the lot of them to the ground and dance on the ashes while their still hot." Branson shook himself, "Not the mood I wanted to bring to our little party."

"It's the mood we need to remember when we're staring death in the face." Anna turned to see Moseley stagger to a chair, collapsing onto it and snoring almost immediately. "A mood I think we all could use to remember a bit more often."

"It's one they're not keeping in Vienna." Branson sighed, jerking his head toward the bar where Mr. Carson dispensed drinks. "Would it be so bad for us to imbibe a bit?"

"I think we owe it to ourselves to give a toast." Anna joined Branson at the bar and waited for the shots. They held up their glasses and Anna spoke, "We, who are about to die, salute you."

"I'll drink to that."

* * *

Green got off the train, hailing a cab. He gave the address to the man twice when the man's eyebrows rose on the first recitation. Sitting back he took deep breaths, the tremor in his metal finger clicking against his belt buckle. Green grabbed his hat to give his hands something to do.

The building where the cab stopped, taking the exact change Green handed over with a frown, only had a few lights inside. But Green took the stairs anyway, pulling out his papers to show the man at the door. The man pulled a phone off the cradle and dialed a quickly number. A few muttered words over the line later and Green had an escort up the stairs.

They stopped at an office where the escort knocked. The wait was a moment and an eternity in the same token and the guard snapped to attention when the door opened. He handed over Green's papers to the man there and saluted when dismissed.

Green faced the man in the doorway and swallowed as the piercing blue eyes studied him. "So you're Alex Green, our infamous informant in the camp of Isobel Crawley."

"I am."

"Don't lie." The man snapped and Green jumped, "You were sloppy and now you're on the run. A cur with nowhere else to go and nothing else to offer."

"That's not true Mr. Carlisle." Green stood straighter, "I've got information you'll want."

"You said on the phone but I'm tired of you jerking me about with secrets."

"The Belfast Pistol and his companion are in Berlin, tracking down the three assassins Mrs. Crawley sent after General Crowborough and Mr. Bricker."

Carlisle's eyebrow rose. "That's all?"

"You can get all five of them and save the General with my help." Green leaned forward, "That's got to mean something to you."

"I assume that's not all you know."

"It's the tip of a very big iceberg." Green pointed to the inside of Carlisle's office, "Might we continue this inside?"


	10. What the Eyes Think They See

Berlin, Next Day (Two Days Until the Wedding)

John nodded Barrow on his way before turning to Talbot. "If I ever see that man again, I'll kill him myself."

"Not sure you'll have time for that when we've got three other people to track down."

"I could make time for him." John closed one eyed and aimed with the other. "It'd be easy. Just come up behind him and fire twice into the kidneys."

"That's a painful way to die."

"He deserves worse."

"I'm sure he does." Talbot patted John's shoulder, "But needs must and our needs are that we must be on our way. We've got three assassins to track down before we collect our hard won but ill-gotten gains and make our way to Hawaii where we wait out the end of this interminable strife."

John shook his head, "You're in the wrong business to be the philosopher you are."

"Nothing gets you all contemplative like death."

They walked out of the station, returning appropriate salutes until John nodded toward a taxi. "Does it help you contemplate the reality that you and I need to locate three assassins in a city of four million people."

"We know who they're trying to locate."

"I don't want to be chasing after Nazi sympathizers trying to create problems. I want to catch them before they're a problem." John tapped the window of the taxi, "Did you work yesterday?"

"I work every day. Someone's got to pay for the children to eat and that's me."

John pulled the photographs from his pocket and stuck them on the windshield. "Tell me if you took these anywhere and you'll make enough to get yourself something nice."

The man leaned forward over his wheel, squinting at the photographs before taping the glass near the one of the balding man. "Recognize him. Poor idiot was struggling to get this container in the back of a truck."

"What kind of truck?"

"One I've seen here before." The man held out a hand and John dug out some bills, holding them just out of reach. "It delivers to a restaurant in Templehof. Not bad food but a little on the expensive end."

John handed over the bills and walked to the back of the taxi, pulling open the door and waving Talbot inside. "What are your odds that they serve to the Nazis?"

"Good." Talbot situated himself in the back, "Though I wish we had our own taxi."

"We will." John shut the door after climbing in after Talbot. "Take us to the restaurant."

"It won't be open yet."

"Not the problem you need to worry yourself about." John tapped the seat, "Just drive."

They wove through other cars on the road, making their way to the building and pulling to a stop outside the front entrance. John shook his head, "Take us around the back."

"Sir?"

"Actually," John got out and opened the driver's door, "Take the day."

"I've got to work."

"Then take this," John handed over a folded stack of bills, "And enjoy yourself. We'll bring this back when we're done with it."

"Sir I-" The man silenced when John glared at him. "Enjoy."

"Thank you." John took the driver's seat and steered around to the back of the building and parked within sight of the restaurant's back entrance.

"John," Talbot leaned over the seat, "Let me take the wheel."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a lower rank than you and I'm a better driver than you." John shrugged and moved over a seat as Talbot took his place behind the wheel. "So, do we wait forever or-"

The door opened and John whistled as Anna and the two photographed men exited the building. Another woman and man followed them. The man gestured to the photographed men, loading into a truck and driving away as the woman gave Anna some instructions before entering the restaurant again. John tapped his tongue to his teeth before pointing after the three men.

"Follow them first."

"Trying to delay the inevitable about your paramour?"

"I'm taking out the most in one go first." John risked a look back at Anna, walking along the street oblivious to their taxi. "We'll get her once we finish with them."

"If you say so boss." Talbot turned the ignition and followed the truck back onto the main road.

It was a testament to Talbot's driving that they followed the truck without giving away their intention. The truck made a stop at a factory and John frowned when one of the men, the larger of the two from the photograph, got out and walked inside. A few minutes later he emerged with two bicycles. One he loaded into the back of the truck and the other he mounted once the man driving the truck attached a sizable cart to the back.

"Interesting purchase for an assassin." Talbot mused but John waved him on.

"Keep following them."

They weaved back into traffic and soon found themselves drawing next to a government building. Talbot whistled but John shook his head. "Don't make any sudden moves and it'll be fine."

"We're in a borrowed taxi dressed as Nazi officers. I'd say it's not fine."

"It will be." John urged, "Just watch them."

Watching the truck and the cart-laden bike had them following a government car for a stretch until it parked outside the offices of an industrial building. Talbot shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

"They're making some odd choices."

"So are we, if we're really thinking about it." John tapped the windshield, "There, watch."

Sure enough, as a thin man with large eyes and a general stepped out of the building together the bike cart moved. It took space in front of the government car while the truck tailed behind. And at the first opportunity the bike cart swerved. The government car slammed on its brakes and the truck hit the fender.

John and Talbot pulled to the side, watching as angry shouts and yells permeated the air until the procession picked back up. This time the truck followed the government car at a more reasonable pace and the bike cart perched in the truck bed. With the taxi keeping its close tail they created an odd caravan.

A short stretch outside the city Talbot peeled off from the tail, following the truck from the other side of a canal, and eventually parked when the car stopped outside a house. John leaned on his window, pulling out a pair of field glasses to watch as the three men from the truck made a show of repairing the fender on the government car while the occupants looked on. Eventually he handed the glasses over to Talbot and tapped the window.

"What is the big one doing?"

Talbot snorted, the field glasses up to his eyes. "He's siphoning petrol."

"Why?"

"Since he's not taking it for the truck I've got a hunch he's doing it to put the car in a spot later."

John scratched his head, "Does it seem odd to you that Nazi sympathizers are draining the petrol from a government car? Or following government types at all?"

"Not really when you know that house isn't government owned." Talbot handed back the field glasses. "That's Simon Bricker's house."

"Who?"

"German industrialist. Big name in the camp of Nazi friendlies."

John made a face, adjusting the focus on the glasses to watch the men pack up their things and drive away. "What are they doing at the house of a sympathizer?"

"What are we doing not shooting them?"

John shook his head, "Something about this doesn't smell right."

"I don't how it smells to you since all I can smell is money." Talbot started the car, "We'll follow the truck."

"No," John urged Talbot out of the driver's seat. "You watch the house. I'll follow the truck."

"What are you doing John?" Talbot leaned in the window, "If this is your nobility shining through I'll remind you this is a piss poor time to be a good man."

"Then it's a good thing we're not good people, isn't it?"

* * *

Anna checked the address again before walking into the shop. A man with a pair of peculiar spectacles perched on a stool, carefully grinding a lens. She hit the top of the bell on the counter and he turned to her, eyes warped in the glass, and blinked before removing them.

"Can I help you?"

"I need new spectacles." Anna placed her cracked ones on the counter and he held them up to the light.

"Come this way." She followed him to a seat and took her place in it as he pulled an apparatus close to her eyes. "Please tell me which is better. One or two?"

"One." The lenses flipped and adjusted. "Still one."

"And now?"

"Two."

"Alright." The man swung the apparatus back, "They'll be ready in an hour. If you'd like to wait here you can but I think you'd like the shops better."

"Why?"

The man stopped, "Because this is the Ku'damm, madam. There's no end of things to do here."

"I'll keep that in mind." Anna left the shop and blinked at the shops before wandering down the avenue. For all the trees and the chatter, it felt more foreign to Anna than the dark of the little room in the restaurant. Here she felt too exposed and it taxed her nerves just to walk the street. But it took time, that was what mattered, and as Anna continually consulted her watch she sighed with relief when she could eventually make her way back up the avenue to collect her spectacles.

As she passed a dress shop she paused, squinting through the glass to see a woman trying on hats while a Nazi officer sat nearby. Her fists clenched as she recognized the perfectly coifed hair and attitude of the man in the chair. Anna went for the door but it chimed when someone else entered and the woman turned.

Both blinked at one another before Anna hurried back to the shop with the spectacles.

The woman inside tapped the man's leg. "Thomas, did you see that woman outside?"

"What?" He looked up from his book and shifted to see out the window. "There's no one there Jane. And if there were women stroll this avenue every day. What would one woman be to me?"

"She looked exactly like me."

"So a short, blonde woman with blue eyes walked by?" He shrugged, "We're the master race and that's normal. Consider yourself lucky you're seeing the future play out before you when the whole world looks like you do."

"I just-" Jane shook her head, "Give me a moment and I'll be right back."

"Jane, we've got the wedding in two days and you're not done picking out clothes." Thomas groaned, "Focus, please, on the task at hand."

Jane turned to the selected items and snatched a few before pushing them toward Thomas. "There, now pay for them and I'll meet you outside."

As Thomas tried to extricate himself from the clothes Jane hurried to the street. She searched for the blonde woman and noticed the closing down on a shop a few paces away. Weaving between those in her way she entered the shop and tried to catch her breath as the man blinked at her.

"But you just-"

"What address did you give that woman?" He only gaped at her and Jane snapped her fingers to get his attention. "If you know who my father or my fiancé are then you'll give me the address she wrote down for her bill."

His shaking fingers handed over the address and Jane snatched it from him to study it. "Thank you."

She hurried out of the shop, tucking the slip of paper away and smiled at a scowling Thomas, left holding her bags. "Sorry."

"What was that?"

"I thought I saw an old friend I wanted to invite to the wedding."

"Aren't there enough people at the wedding already?"

"It's a big event." Jane took the bags from Thomas. "And I thought you were looking forward to it."

"I'm looking forward to it being over."

* * *

Berlin, That Night

John kept his distance but since there were few people walking the edge of the river eventually the man ahead of him turned. "Looking for something mate?"

"Just a good pub." John hurried to walk in step with him. "You wouldn't happen to know any around here, would you?"

"First time in Berlin… Officially."

"I see." John extended a hand, "Then welcome to Berlin Mr.?"

"Branson."

"Welcome to Berlin Mr. Branson."

"And you?"

"Oh," John shrugged, noting how Branson still held tight to the handshake, "I've been here a few times."

"No, you're name."

"Bernhard." John released his grip and they stepped a pace apart. "Your German's good for an Englishman."

"I'm not English." Branson held up a finger, "I'm Irish."

"Ah, explains why you haven't found a good pub yet."

"How's that?"

"Higher standards."

It took a beat but Branson laughed, "Mind showing someone new in town a place to have a good time?"

"Don't mind if I do." John led them along the canal and then down an alley.

As the way got darker he heard Branson stop. "I think you've missed the part about 'good time' mate."

"Did I?" John swung around with his gun, "Because I think you missed the part where you're supposed to be loyal to your country."

"Excuse me?"

"Captain Green sends his regards."

Before John could shoot Branson kicked up, knocking the gun from John's grip. It clattered to the ground and when John reached for it Branson's fist impacted his face. A swift haymaker left John wheezing but he landed a solid punch to Branson's throat.

Branson stumbled back, choking, as John found his gun in the dark. With only a gagging sound Branson ran for the street, John on his heels. When he was almost on top of Branson, cutting close enough to get his gun to the man's coat, John fired.

They stumbled, John barely catching himself before he tumbled into the canal, but Branson fell over the edge. John took a few deep breaths to steady himself and waited for Branson to surface. When he did not, John tucked his gun into his holster and hurried up the street.

He entered the car and Talbot drove them away from the scene. "Get him boss?"

"He's no one's worry anymore." John brushed his hair back, "Now for the other two."


	11. From Bad to Worse

Berlin, That Night

Anna checked her watch and shook her head, "I thought he'd be back by now."

"He probably ran for it." Moseley muttered and jumped when he noticed the other three pairs of eyes on him. "He tried, in Prague, but I convinced him to stay. I thought it was enough but I guess not."

"We're a man short. We can't get the petrol station under control and get the cars without Branson." Anna shook her head, "It's all buggered now."

"I can get the petrol station." Mr. Carson shrugged when they all looked at him. "I'm intimidating and I can look the part. I know how to pump petrol."

"It's dangerous." Anna warned, "If we mess up any part of this we're all dead."

"The truth of it, Ms. Smith, is that we're all dead anyway." Mr. Carson put his hand on the table and Anna noted Mrs. Hughes's hand covering it a moment. "I can pump the petrol."

"Alright then," She sighed, "I guess we should get some sleep then."

"Shut eye for all."

Anna took a breath, "I'm going for a walk. I need to clear my head."

"Be careful. If someone catches you-"

"I'll take care Mrs. Hughes." Anna nodded at the table, "I've my date with destiny tomorrow and I don't feel like rushing it."

* * *

Green rubbed his eyes as Carlisle dismissed the stenographer. "I think that's more than sufficient information for you to find these assassins."

"And the hitman you hired?" Carlisle gently jabbed a finger at his desk. "You never did say why he didn't find it odd that you hired him and not Mrs. Crawley. Especially since Mrs. Crawley knew you were a traitor."

"I don't know if Mrs. Crawley knows and even if she did, it's not getting broadcast across the divisions." Green snorted, "Do you really think that Mrs. Crawley wants the world knowing that she allowed a traitor that close to her organization?"

"I'm wondering if you realize that showing your colors made you a bigger target than you suspect." Carlisle gave his own smile. "See, you think you're untouchable now but, the reality is, should this operation succeed then we've no need of you."

"Given all I can do that seems rather unlikely."

"A traitor like you?" Carlisle shook his head, "We could never trust you."

"I've been loyal to this cause since nineteen-nineteen." Green held up his hand, "I lost a finger for it."

"No, you lost a finger because you supported another cause." Carlisle paused, "Do you have a wife, Mr. Green?"

"No, I never married."

"Ever taken a mistress? Slept with another man's wife?"

"No."

"Then you don't understand." Carlisle stood, walking to the window of his office. "When the woman you take as your mistress begins insisting you make her your wife you've two options. The first is to obey her request. You convince yourself that you're happy together, that your midday trysts and secret meetings will be easier when there's no worry of anyone watching over your shoulder."

Carlisle turned back to Green, "But the reality is, once she's your wife she's not fun anymore. She's a nag, a drag, and nothing but what you just got rid of. Worse, she's no good at cleaning your house or caring for your children. You received far worse in the deal."

"However," Carlisle walked back to his desk, shaking a finger in the air, "The truth to it all is you'll never trust her. Do you know why?"

Green bit the inside of his cheek, left hand gripping tightly to the arm of his chair. "I'm sure you'll tell me."

"Because if she cheated with you, then she'll cheat on you. And she knows you'll do the same. There'll always be the foundation of deception and you should never build on shaky ground." Carlisle sat, "So, no, Mr. Green. We won't be needing your services after this and all you can expect is the generous offer I have for you to flee now and never come back."

"Flee?" Green flexed his hand and stood, "That sounds like a good plan, Mr. Carlisle."

"I thought so."

"Just like you don't plan on telling General Crowborough or Mr. Bricker about the attack at all, do you?"

"And what makes you think that?"

"Your secretary writes shorthand but I read it. She didn't take down any of the information that I gave you. She just wrote about what she wanted to do with you on your next secret meeting." Green snatched the phone from the desk and brought it around to catch Carlisle in the head. He tumbled out of his chair and onto the floor as Green rounded the desk. "Next time you try to tell someone an analogy, you shouldn't use one from your life."

Green gripped the phone tighter and brought it down on Carlisle again, waiting for the man to stop moving before he dropped it on the floor. Patting down his hair and adjusting his coat, wiping down the surfaces of the room with Carlisle's handkerchief, he left the office. "If you're not going to help me, then I'll solve this myself."

As he closed the door the secretary rose from her desk. Green lifted a finger to his lips and urged her over. As she joined him he put a hand over her mouth and flipped out his butterfly knife to catch her between the ribs. A soft exhale went against his hand and Green dragged her inside the room next to Carlisle's body.

Green positioned the knife in Carlisle's hand before leaving the room. The notepad still lay on her desk and Green left it there, shaking his head. "Never tell anyone a story that tells them too much. And never leave it out in the open. That's what being caught taught me."

No one stopped him leaving the office as he knocked on the roof of a waiting taxi. "Take me the Simon Bricker residence, quick as you can."

"Yes sir."

* * *

Jane dabbed at her mouth with a napkin before standing up from the table, "I'm feeing a bit tired so I think I'll retire."

"But it's so early in the evening darling." Her father came around the table, holding out a hand to her. "And your fiancé's here with my good friend. We'd be poor hosts if you disappeared so early. You know I'm helpless without you."

"She should be tired." Thomas lit up a cigarette, blowing a stream of smoke toward the ceiling while the man in uniform next to him pulled a cigar from the box the butler offered him. "Ran after some blonde woman in the street."

Jane bit her lip as her father frowned. "What blonde woman?"

"Claimed the woman looked just like her." Thomas laughed, "I think she forgot the purpose of the race is to have everyone look like her."

"Don't tell me your daughter's afraid of meeting a race of people as beautiful as she is, Bricker." The man with the cigar chuckled, "We'd all be in danger then."

"What are they talking about Jane?"

Jane retook her seat, "I was in the dress shop and I saw a girl who looked exactly like me at the window. But when I turned she vanished."

"Perhaps it was your reflection and you forgot your own beauty and confused yourself." The man puffing on his cigar almost coughed when his joke made him laugh too hard. "What a problem that must be to have."

"It was nothing of the sort, General Crowborough, and I know what I saw." Jane turned to the butler, "Sampson used to tell me that I had a sister but she died when I was young."

"I don't know what Sampson was thinking," Bricker ground the words out as Sampson ducked his head and gathered the plates quickly before vanishing from the room. "But your sister did die when you were very young."

"I remember, your wife delivered twins." General Crowborough knocked on the table, spilling half of his ash out of the tray. "Something about bandits on the road wasn't it?"

"Thieves saw an opportunity when my cars stopped, yes." Bricker gripped the edge of table and Jane noted the whiteness in his knuckles. "They had no mercy for my wife or the nurse and both died. It was only providence that saved Jane when her elder sister died of exposure."

"Yes, and Sampson rescued me. I remember that part but," Jane held up her hands, "What if my sister survived? What if Anna is still alive somewhere?"

"That's not possible." Bricker shook his head, "I watched them bury your sister with your mother. You've seen their graves."

Jane opened her mouth as if to say something more but just shook her head. "You're right, I'm mistaken and perhaps I imagined it all."

"Not usual for a woman." General Crowborough puffed on his cigar before nudging Thomas, "You're marrying an anxious and hysterical species my friend."

"Thank you all for your sympathies." Jane pushed her chair back, "I'll see you in the morning."

When she left the room General Crowborough snorted, "Sometimes I worry about your daughter Bricker."

"I'd worry more about the part she has to play for Major Barrow." Bricker stood, "Please excuse me gentlemen. I need to speak to my butler."

"Yes, make sure he's not spinning more tales." Crowborough sniggered, stubbing out his cigar. "Major, I think it's time we left them in peace since we're descending on them early enough tomorrow for the factory visit."

"I agree." Barrow stood, shaking Bricker's hand, "I hope Jane's feeling better in the morning. I wouldn't want her feeling under the weather."

"Nor would I." Bricker waited for them to leave before he grabbed Sampson by the scruff of his neck. "What have you been telling Jane?"

"I only told her about her sister since the picture of your wife and you holding them just after birth hangs in the house." Bricker released Sampson and he stepped away, "I told the story to her just as you did tonight. No variations or deviations."

"Then why would she think the child survived if you swore she didn't?"

"Perhaps it's a latent desire." Sampson snapped his fingers. "I've been reading some of the psychoanalytical dissertations and it could be that the pressure of a big change is leading her to seek comfort in old memories. It's just anxiety sir, it'll pass."

"You'd best hope it's just anxiety and that I don't find that you lied to me about getting rid of my wife and the nurse all those years ago." Bricker took a deep breath, "Go comfort my daughter. She'll be in a right state after dinner."

"Yes sir." Sampson hurried through the house, knocking softly on Jane's door. "Ms. Jane?"

Jane opened the door and sighed, "Are you here to comfort me or reprimand me on behalf of my father?"

"I'm here to comfort you Ms. Jane."

"Then tell me the truth," Jane folded her arms, over her chest. "Could my sister have survived without my knowledge?"

"Ms. Jane, I saw her buried with your mother. It's impossible that she survived the exposure. You barely did yourself."

"This isn't just me being silly, Sampson. I know what I saw."

"What did you see Ms. Jane?"

Jane disappeared from the door a moment, returning with a slip of paper. "I got this address from the man the woman purchased spectacles from, for the bill, and he stared at me like he'd seen a ghost. He said he just gave me the spectacles and his jaw almost hit the floor."

Sampson took the slip of paper and noted the address. "If you'd like, Ms. Jane, I could go there myself tomorrow and ease your worries."

"Would you?" Jane threw her arms over Sampson, "That's all I need. Someone to confirm it for me, Without ridicule."

"It's my pleasure Ms. Jane." Sampson extricated himself and stepped back. "It'll be alright, I promise."

"I'll rest easier knowing it's all in your hands Sampson."

"It's safe there Ms. Jane."

The door closed and Sampson played with the information in his hand before heading to Bricker's study. He knocked on the door and waited for Bricker to answer. Without a word he handed over the address and Bricker frowned.

"What is this?"

"It's from the shop where your daughter claimed she saw the girl who looked like her."

"And what are you going to do with it?"

"I thought I might go to the address and see if there's anything to her story. Absolve her fears."

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her. Don't-" both men froze as someone rang the bell to the front door. "Who could that possibly be at this hour?"

"I'll send them away sir." Sampson hurried to the door and opened it to see a man in a long, black coat. "Sir, it's late and-"

"I've information that'll save the lives of this household." The man removed his hat with a hand where a metal finger glinted, "I'm sure your boss'll want to hear about it."

* * *

Anna pulled her coat tighter and walked back toward the restaurant. Someone grabbed her arm and she turned with the move, bringing her elbow high to catch the face of her attacker. In a moment her elbow caught in a hand and she froze when she saw John.

They stared at one another a moment before Anna grasped his face between her hands. Lips crashed and they pulled back into the alley with no care for their surroundings. Only once John's back hit the wall did they separate, both hauling air deep into their lungs, and look at one another.

"What are you doing here?" She murmured, running her fingers over his lips and face. "Why are you here?"

"I don't want to answer that." He closed his eyes and Anna drew back a moment before his hands tightened on her arms. "I just want to forget what I'm supposed to do tomorrow."

"I need forget too."

He ran his lips over her cheekbones, memorizing her face as she basked in his hold. "Are you going to die?"

"Yes."

"I might as well." He stopped, breath tickling her lips. "Perhaps we could die together. In a hail of bullets and a blaze of glory."

"People like us die in alleys like this." Anna used his lapels to draw herself closer to him. "But for now we can fell alive again."

"I want that."

"Then feel alive here with me John." She studied his face, "Will you feel alive with me?"

"Yes."

It took no more words for John to swing them around so Anna's back hit the wall. The rush of air that left her only heightened the giddy sensations running about her head when his lips seized hers. Her fingers clawed for purchase on him in a desperate struggle and finally found the skin of his neck.

She held there, shifting her body toward his, and moaned when he rewarded her efforts with a lift. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Anna sighed into his renewed kiss. That sigh quickly changed to a keening whimper as John shunted against her, with the wall as his leverage, to drive his hips toward hers. Even between their clothing Anna would swear to the heat emanating from him.

Her fingers caught in her skirt, the fabric bunching and struggling between them, but John stepped forward when the way cleared and ran his fingers along her knickers. Anna moaned at the motion and dug her fingers into the material of his jacket as his mouth sucked a line of kisses down her neck. Her had to silence her cry with his mouth when his fingers pressed the fabric of her knickers into her and his thumb worked over her nerves.

Anna risked her balance to land her other finger near his trousers. She fumbled, focus torn by his mouth on her neck again, his hand kneading and pinching at her breast through her blouse, and his fingers still trying to work inside her past her knickers. At the click of his released belt John tore at her knickers and both groaned at the squeeze of her muscles against his finger when he slid it inside her.

"I wish I could taste you." He breathed against her skin and stopped, "Maybe I will."

Before Anna could think her legs hit the ground and John knelt before her. His hands, so insistent just a moment before, now trailed over her thighs with care until he spread the fabric of her ruined knickers to kiss over her hips. Her skirt bunched over his shoulders and Anna, between the skirt and the shadows, could only feel him. It was enough to leave her clawing at the brickwork behind her.

Pulling with his teeth, while his tongue licked and laved over her, did not distract John's finger. Or another when he stretched her winder and drank harder. Anna tumbled over the edge with a raw shriek she could not contain and within a moment she used the adrenaline to pull John to his feet.

Her mouth claimed his while her hands flailed to expose him to her touch. He sighed into her, hands going to the wall on either side as she stroked him. The vibration of the blood through them both sent Anna's hands into a frenzy of tactile sensation. It pulled John closer, wrapped Anna's legs over his hips again, and gave them the strength to join in a thrust.

Time stopped and they stared at one another. The darkness of the alley covered all but the smallest of glints in their eyes, reflections of the starlight, as John drew the edge and thrust back in as hard as he could. Anna let her head go back against the wall, exposing her throat to his waiting kisses.

She turned them back to his face, their lips sliding and seeking with John's hips meeting hers in a desperate surge. Anna spread her legs wider, sinking down more fully on him, and John grabbed a hand to her ass to hold her in place for his deeper drives. With a final grunt he released and Anna let out her own whimper against his neck.

They clung together, evening their breathing, and Anna inhaled his scent as if she could imprint it on her memory. John's fingers branded over her skin, sliding through the fabric as he returned her to the ground, and she knew it was not enough. It could never be enough.

After a moment of resettling, and Anna removing her destroyed knickers, they stared at one another. She risked a hand to his face, feeling over the lines there. "Are we enemies now John?"

"We may be." John crowded her to the wall, "Why are you here Anna?"

"I can't tell you."

"Because you don't trust me?"

"I've no reason to." Anna held his stare, "I wish I could. I wish I could give the rest of my life to someone like you and we could share our secrets forever but since neither of us'll live beyond tomorrow I don't think we ever can."

"Anna-" The callouses of his fingers edged her profile. "I-"

"Don't," She shook her head, "Don't tell me and I don't have to tell you and then we can go into tomorrow remembering that we shared this tonight."

"Yes." John whispered, kissing her again. "Tonight was enough."

"Never enough." Anna gave him a small, sad smile. "It's never enough John."

"I wish we could be two people, who met and fell in love in a café in Prague. Who met again in Berlin and then rode off into the sunset together." John gripped her hand, "We could be that Anna. We could leave now, together, and be that. Leave behind whatever traps us here to be that."

"I can't." Anna pulled away. "I've got a job to do and I won't leave it."

John nodded, "And you know I've a job to do too?"

"I do."

"Then know this," John put his hand to her face, "I'll never forget what I shared with you because I'll share it with no one ever again."

"I know." Anna put her hand over his, basking in the sensation for the last time. "We had this and they'll never be anything like it again."


	12. Out of the Frying Pan

Berlin, Same Night

Green drummed his metal finger against the table as Bricker glared at him. "If you think I don't remember who you are I do."

"Do you?" Green shifted in his chair, dropping his body to lean forward over the table toward Bricker. "Then I'm sure you'd like the information I'm about to give you because the people who sent me to kill you fourteen years ago are at it again."

"Are they?" Bricker crossed his arms over his chest, "And you no longer work for them?"

Green snorted, dusting off the brim of his hat to flash his metal finger at Bricker, "Not after I lost this. I've been a loyal servant of the Nazi regime since then."

"Have you?" Bricker raised an eyebrow, "I would've thought people like you died for your cause rather than give up on it."

"Once one actually faces death they find the platitudes and flowery rhetoric is just that." Green smiled at Bricker but stopped when a woman entered the room. He frowned and stood, "Anna?"

"I'm Jane, actually." She extended her hand and shivered when Green's metal finger touched her skin. "I'm sorry to disturb you but I was looking for Sampson."

"He's somewhere in the house dear, just look for him." Bricker waved her away, "I'm sure he'll make you some tea to settle you for sleep."

"Yes." Jane took her hand back, nodding at Green. "Again, my apologies for disturbing you."

Green shook his head, "Not a problem, I assure you." Jane left the room ad Green pointed at her, "She's much older than when I was here last."

Bricker's face went red and he rose, leveling a shaking finger at Green, "If you threaten her-"

"I'm here to save her as well as yourself." Green dropped his hat to the table and walked to the picture, his metal finger tapping it. "I thought so. You had twins then, didn't you?"

"Yes but her sister died of exposure." Bricker gave a little chuckle, "You should remember how cold that night was. It's when you were caught."

"Interesting thing about that night." Green pointed to the picture, running a hand through the hair at the back of his head. "I remember being the driver for your daughters' nurse. Lovely women, had more of a spine than some men I've met, and I remember when your men cornered us. She took that baby and ran while I tried to hold them off."

"My valet told me what happened." Bricker frowned, "He killed the nurse and the child died."

"Did he tell you that?" Green made a face, "I'm sure that's why you gave him the job of your butler as well, promotion for services rendered was it?"

"He's been loyal to this house."

"And himself, I'm sure." Green cleared his throat. "The nurse and your elder daughter got away, Mr. Bricker."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"Prove it."

"If you want." Green reached into his pocket and withdrew a bent photograph. "I'm sure you'll recognize the spitting image of your dear Jane holding the rifle in that photograph."

Bricker pulled the photograph closer, hands shaking when he bent down to examine it. "This is impossible."

"No, it's the way of the world." Green took a seat again, gesturing toward the photograph. "She's one of the people they've brought to kill you and she's good enough to do it."

Pushing the photograph away Bricker met Green's eyes. "What do you want?"

"I want your connections to get me an appointment with the SS and listen to what I need to tell you now."

"I'm listening."

* * *

Berlin, Next Day (One Day Until Wedding)

Anna held her rifle close, rattling along in the truck with Mrs. Hughes driving while Mr. Carson and Moseley sat in the bed in the back. She caught sight of Moseley in the mirror, adjusting his uniform and fiddling with the handlebars of his bike and Anna snorted. Mrs. Hughes turned at the sound and shrugged.

"He's nervous."

"He should be." Anna ran a hand through her hair. "He's handling explosives he's not trained to use and yet he has to toss them under cars and hope he can pedal fast enough to escape the blast."

"You don't sound too confident."

"I was more confident when the man who knew how to use them was going to use them." Anna shifted her rifle, pulling her hair back from her face to restrain it in a rough ponytail. "But we're working with what we have. Just like Hamburg."

"How's it like Hamburg?"

"There we make do because we keep telling ourselves it'll only be another week, another month, another year at most until we get rid of Hitler. That it's just time before we make the world safe again." Anna closed her eyes, "My mother taught me to shoot instead of bake bread, how to hide in camouflage instead of repair a roof because we didn't need to do any of those things. Not when we would go back soon. Not when it'd all be over soon."

"Is that why you're so calm?"

"I've been facing death my whole life Mrs. Hughes." Anna pulled her rifle back toward her. "It doesn't frighten me now."

"I'm sure a little romp on the streets wasn't a bad way to diffuse the tension either." Mrs. Hughes shook her head when Anna turned toward her in a rush. "I don't begrudge it and I'm glad that's how you got rid of your fear. Not like Branson, cutting and running."

"I don't blame him running for a better life." Anna sighed, "These are the times that try men's souls and perhaps his wasn't ready."

"And you are?"

"Always."

They stopped in the alley across from the petrol station and Anna got out. She slung her rifle over her shoulder and turned to Moseley and Mr. Carson, working the bicycle out of the back of the truck. When they hit the ground Anna noted how Moseley tugged at his collar, the bag holding the explosives shifting a bit on his thigh, and Anna met his eyes.

"There's still time to leave Mr. Moseley. If you're not up for it."

"I'm not leaving until it's finished Captain Smith." Moseley stood as tall as he could, "This is my chance to make my father proud and I'd like to take it, if that's alright with you."

"It is." Anna put a hand on his shoulder. "He'd be proud of you because I know I am."

"Thank you." Moseley ducked his head, shrugging as a tinge of red graced his cheeks. "That means a lot."

Anna nodded to the street, "I think you're up, Mr. Moseley."

He tried a salute before swinging his leg over the bicycle and pushing off. It wobbled under him and it took a moment for Moseley to get control of the bicycle before the speed of his pedaling righted him. Exiting the alley he began the circuit that would take him around in time to place the charges.

Turning to the stairs Anna caught sight of Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson. She stopped, her hand on the railing, and watched as Mr. Carson kissed Mrs. Hughes's hands before placing a sweet kiss on her lips. Anna dropped her head, not wanting to intrude on the moment, and waited for them to finish.

With murmured words she could not hear, Mr. Carson left the alley and Mrs. Hughes came to where Anna waited. They looked at one another and Anna nodded. Mrs. Hughes put a hand on her shoulder and inhaled.

"I wish you luck, Captain. For what it's worth, what you're doing, I wish you luck."

"I promise, if I can, I'll get him back to you." Anna snuck a glance at the retreating form of Mr. Carson. "If I can I will."

"He knows why we're fighting." Mrs. Hughes coughed but Anna caught sight of the tears in her eyes. "He knows how important this is."

"We all do and we won't let you down."

Mrs. Hughes returned to the truck as Anna took the stairs, fitting herself through the window and taking her position on the porch. She watched as Mrs. Hughes truck drove away and noted Mr. Carson spare it a final glance before he herded both the petrol operator and his daughter inside the office. A moment later he emerged and took position manning the station.

He removed his hat and Anna caught the signal before setting her rifle on the railing and waiting. Moseley made a round with his bicycle, moving his bag to the other side and Anna loaded the bullets into her gun. His bicycle vanished from view and as Anna turned back up the street she frowned.

The tall, lanky man from the dark street of Prague perched on the running board of a car. She snuck a peek through her scope and noticed the large bag on the ground next to him as he idly flipped through the paper. Her head came back up, brow furrowed when she noted the man's scan of the street.

A noise came behind her and Anna brought her rifle around, jammed tight into her shoulder. John stood there, pistol aimed at her and Anna gripped her rifle tighter. They just stared at one another a moment until John lowered his gun.

"I'm not supposed to give you another chance but you need to leave, now."

"Why?"

"Because I'm here to stop you helping the Nazis."

"Help the Nazis?" Anna spluttered, "Are you insane?"

"Captain Green wouldn't have hired us if-"

"Captain Green?" Anna shook her head, "No, he hired us."

"What?" John pulled the photographs out of his pocket and threw them on the floor between them, "Those are the faces of three assassins here to help the Nazi cause."

"That's terribly unfortunate since we're here to bring them down." Anna twitched at sounds from the street as a caravan of cars pulled toward petrol station. "And here they come."

John's gun cocked behind her but Anna ignored it, taking aim. "Shoot me if you want John because that's what you'll have to do to stop me killing General Crowborough and Simon Bricker."

"You're here to kill them."

"Yes," Anna turned over her shoulder, "What'd you think I was here to do?"

"I-" John stopped when gunfire ripped through the street.

Anna turned back to her position and watched as the lanky man ducked behind a car, hiding from a barrage of bullets coming from the rear car. "I think your friend needs your help."

Running footsteps faded and Anna took aim through her scope. But the cars were all wrong. Neither Crowborough nor Bricker were in their proper seats. Anna tore herself away from her gun, watching for Moseley, and jumped when the car at the rear of the caravan blew.

Moseley's bicycle weaved between the other cars as he managed it one handed, tearing a cap with his teeth, and tossed the other charge into the front car. He tried to go for cover but the rat-tat-tat-tat of bullets echoed from behind him. Anna watched in horror as he tried to throw one last charge, wobbling off his bicycle as the back of his uniform darkened. It crashed into the petrol pump and the whole thing blew.

The force drove Anna into the wall, toppling her gun from its perch, and setting it off. Bullets rained on her position and Anna scrambled to get her gun before climbing back in the window. She hurried through the room, leaping to the next building, and replaced her rifle to fire on the only car left in the procession.

Wheels spun as the driver attempted to steer around burning wreckage on three sides and Ann took aim. Her bullets, one after the other, cracked the glass in the back and she caught the shoulders visible. And, for the brief moment she could, she aimed for the driver's head.

Red sprayed over the windshield and Anna thought she heard a shriek from the cab. The back door opened and Bricker's daughter tumbled out. Anna's jaw dropped when she thought she recognized herself and then she dropped as a bullet tore into her shoulder.

She hit the roof under her hard, rolling to the edge and falling to the ground below. The air knocked from her lungs and her mind panicked as she hyperventilated to try and breathe. Someone kicked her gun from her hands and when Anna turned to see who it was the butt of a rifle knocked her unconscious.

* * *

John hurried to Talbot's side, ducking bullets, and Talbot nodded before pointing to the flaming inferno that was the petrol station. "Do we count that one as ours?"

"Did you fire first?"

"I noticed he kept circling and I followed him here." Talbot motioned to the street. "One of the Nazis in the car saw me and he called out. I tried to point to the man on the bicycle but he drew his gun and naturally I-"

"Just get out of here." John pushed him away from the car. "We need to get to our extraction."

"Did you get the girl?"

John paused, "They got her." He pointed as Anna tumbled off a roof.

Talbot groaned, "Can we count that?"

"Seeing as we botched it and didn't stop anything?"

"Not our fault."

"Just," John shoved Talbot, "Go, before they shoot you."

"What about you?"

"I'll be fine."

Talbot laughed, "Like hell you will. Every time you say that you get into trouble."

"Then get going so you can get me out of it again."

Talbot scampered and John took Talbot's gun. He cocked it back and let a hail of bullets fly over the scene. Soldiers went down and John thought he recognized Barrow from the train. He aimed where the man ducked down but stopped when he thought he saw Anna crouching near Barrow.

As John paused something hit him on the back of the head. He tumbled forward, dropping the machine gun, and tried to roll over onto his back but found a gun barrel in his face. John raised his hands and sighed.

"Shit."


	13. Into the Fire

On the Road Out of Berlin, Same Day

Anna blinked, groaning as she tried to sit up but found her hand cuffed to something. She tilted her head and sighed in defeat when she saw John. With a groan she lifted herself to sit and he offered her a hand. Anna just batted it away.

"I don't need your help."

"It's alright for me," John held up his right hand, cuffed to her right hand as well so the chain wrapped between them. "Though I think someone should look at your shoulder."

She grimaced, noting the blood, and let out a breath. "It's not the worst I've had."

"I wouldn't think so."

Settling back against the wall Anna shut her eyes but they opened again in a moment when she realized it moved behind her. She shifted, her feet kicking out to hit the bars in front of the small bench she shared with John, and swallowed at the sight of armed soldiers in front of them. The whole prison jolted again and Anna finally recognized the truck cab at the front.

"What is this?"

"I'd imagine they're taking us to a prison somewhere. Someplace like where your Captain Green went for three days before he escaped with that metal finger I'd like to shove up his ass."

"Hey!" The soldier closest to them banged on the gates and Anna jumped a bit. "No English."

John leaned toward Anna, the chain sliding over her lap, "Do you think he means no French as well?"

"I think he wants us to speak in German." Anna held the soldier's stare, "He wants to share in the fun."

"I said no talking!" He pointed his gun at them and both raised their hands.

"I thought he said no speaking English." John muttered and the man waved the rifle at him. "If he wanted no talking at all he should have said."

"I wonder what he'd do if we kissed." Anna turned her face toward John, "He might open the gate to pull us apart."

"He'd have to." John put a hand to Anna's face, waiting a moment. "I hope your arm's alright."

"It's fine."

John's lips came down on hers and Anna forced herself to close her eyes and enjoy it for the half second they had. Keys jangled in the lock and the door opened. But as the guard stepped toward them John's right arm snaked out and Anna held tug on the end of the chain holding them together as John wrapped it over the man's neck.

Anna's back went to Johns as they used the choking soldier as a body shield. He flailed and Anna flinched despite herself at the dull thump of bullets hitting the boys' body. John's arm moved against her to handle the pistol at the guard's hip and three decisive shots had John dropping the body and bending down to search through their pockets. She tried to help but shook her head after a moment.

"They don't have the keys."

"Damn." John flipped one over and unbuckled the gun belt there. "At least I get these back."

Anna helped him work the gun belt on and grabbed for the side of the truck as it jolted. "We need to stop the truck."

"We could jump for it."

"I doubt we'd survive."

"Better than dying in a Nazi prison." John worked the back of the truck open but pulled it closed immediately as bullets banged against the door. "They've got two cars tailing us."

Anna tugged back on the chain, hitting the canvas sides. "Do they have a knife on them?"

John dug on out and Anna used the bench to cut a hole in the canvas above them. He helped her onto the roof before jumping to catch the strut and pull himself up as well. Horns honked from the cars following them and Both kept their bodies low while crawling toward the cab of the truck.

"I'll drop first," John called over the wind, whipping their hair into their faces. "Then you come after me."

Anna nodded and John scooted himself forward to drop on the top of the cab. The truck swerved and Anna slipped on the canvas as the chain jerked on her wrist. Sliding over the edge, fear rose in her throat and her shoulder tore from its socket.

She bounced off the side and her flailing arm caught John's. He strained, feet trying to find purchase on a slick and shifting surface, but swung Anna toward the cab. Her hands grabbed the door nearest her and her good arm went through the glass to punch at the man sitting there. His head went back and she stepped to the side on the running board to yank the door open.

He fell out, rolling over the ground, and Anna gripped the door tightly as John's feet came through the windshield. She turned away, shards of glass flying all around them, and held so tightly to the door it imprinted in her hand as John wrestled with the driver. The chain tugged at her arm and she cried out as her dislocated arm tugged at inflamed muscles.

John got control of the wheel and tired to help Anna crawl back over the bonnet of the truck. As she managed to get on top of it, a car pulled alongside them and bullets struck the metal, pinging off it. Anna hurried into the cab, hitting the back wall hard enough to jar her already screaming shoulder, and it was al she could to do not to scream in pain as she held her shoulder close to her body.

As John put a hand to his holster the car next to them dropped back as a spray of bullets cracked and shattered their windshield. Anna shifted to see a motorcycle bearing down on them and went to duck under the dashboard but the motorcycle passed by them. Her eyes caught sight of it in the mirror and recognized John's partner.

The motorcycle caught on a tight turn and he came behind them, pulling to the far side of the car trying to keep pace with the truck and taking out both driver and passenger before pulling ahead again. The car swerved and caught an embankment, flipping up and over to crash on its roof, as the motorcycle kept just ahead of them.

It dropped even with John at the wheel and Anna heard the man shout something. John waved him off and motorcycle dropped back again. In the mirror it looked as if the man slipped off the side of the bike and the other car tried to speed ahead. But he brought up his machine gun and took out the tires before leaving a trail over the side that left the car driving right into the river next to the road.

Anna tried to even her breathing as John slowed the truck but the loss of adrenaline only exacerbated the pain in her shoulder. She cried out, biting on her jaw as John reached out a hand. He nodded, motioning to the man on the motorcycle to lead them back around.

"We need to fix your shoulder."

"We need to get out of these handcuffs." Anna twitched away from John. "I'll worry about my shoulder."

"Not if you've got a concussion or any serious internal damage."

"I've been shot in the shoulder, I fell from eight feet after being shot, I dislocated that same shoulder, and I'm handcuffed to a man who pulled a gun on me." Anna snorted, grinding her teeth at the pain. "I think I'm very far from worrying about if the damage is serious since I'm sure it is."

"We'll find somewhere to fix it."

"Why?"

"What?" John only spared her a moment of his focus as he tried to follow the motorcycle back into town.

"Why bother when you're just going to kill me anyway." Anna tried to even her breathing, her whole body shaking through the shock. "Don't think I don't recognize you now."

"Recognize me?"

"You're the Belfast Pistol and if I know one thing about hitmen, it's that you're after the money." She turned, "What am I worth to you?"

John did not answer, pulling the truck into traffic and following the motorcycle to the back of a building. He parked the truck, opening his door and leaning over to grab Anna. Lifting her out of the cab, arms careful of her shoulder, John looked into her eyes.

"You're worth everything to me."

Carrying her inside the building, John held her carefully and Anna saw his partner holding the occupants of a waiting room captive with a primed machine gun. He shrugged at John as he kicked through a set of doors and the doctor froze, his tools inside the mouth of another man. The man whimpered as the doctor held his hands in the air.

"Worry about his tooth later. She's got something in her arm." John laid Anna on a table, snatching a pair of pliers from the tray and prying them at the handcuffs keeping them connected.

The doctor hurried over and Anna tried to hold still as the doctor ripped her jacket and blouse back to see the injury. His eyes darted from John, working his wrist from the cuff, and Anna before clearing his throat. "You're right, there's something there."

"Please remove it." John urged and gave a shout as he got his wrist loose. He shook his hand out and interlaced his fingers with Anna's as the doctor held her shoulder. "Quickly as you can doctor. We've got places to be and things to do. If you don't mind, our schedule is rather tight."

"I'll count to three." Anna met the man's eyes as he nodded with her. "One-"

Anna screamed as he yanked the bullet from her shoulder. The dull thud as it dropped into the kidney dish beside her was all Anna could use to focus her attention so she did not pass out. Even the sensation of John prying the handcuff off her wrist was nothing compared to the searing burn in her shoulder.

A hand clamped on her collarbone and before Anna could register what was going on her shoulder popped and she shrieked. John's hand came to her face and he tried to soothe her as the doctor sewed the wound closed and wrapped the area. She blinked in and out of consciousness until the doctor stepped back.

"I'm done."

"Thank you doctor." Anna barely caught John's wave, "Please, return to your previous patient."

The doors banged closed and Anna blinked at John. "Is this where you kill me?"

"After I went through all that trouble to save your life?"

"I heard what your partner yelled." Anna sat up and John's hands steadied her when she wobbled. "He said I was 'money' and you should push me out of the truck."

"That would've pushed me out too and then he'd have no money." John laughed with her but Anna only shook her head.

"We failed and you should just kill me. At least someone would get something right today."

"You didn't fail." John shook his head, "You were betrayed."

"Why would Green do it?"

"People do a lot of strange things for a lot of strange reasons." John shook his head, "I don't pretend to understand them."

"I won't get another chance." Anna slipped to her feet, steadying herself on the edge of the table. "And neither will you so you should take it now. Shoot me, collect your money, and go wherever you're going when you earn enough."

"When I earn enough?"

"I knew a hitman once," Anna managed a snort, "He was always talking about 'when he earned enough' he'd go to Turks and Cacaos. Wanted a beach where the women walked around topless and he never needed a coat."

"What happened to him?"

"He betrayed us and my commanding officer had me shoot him in the back as he ran away."

"You shot him in the back?"

"Anna shrugged, then hissed at the pain in her shoulder, "An unfortunate factor of his position in the act of running away."

"I don't think you shot him in the back."

"You're right. I got him in the back of the head." Anna took a deep breath, "So where are you going when you kill me? Where's the money Green's paying you taking your friend and you?"

"Hawaii."

"I've heard good things about it." Anna closed her eyes, "Do it now please, before I come to my senses and the pain wears off enough."

She heard the click of a hammer drawn back but then only the bang of the door. Anna opened her eyes and saw John gone. Raised voices from the next room had her attention only a moment before she lifted the window near her.

It almost stuck but she shoved upward, ignoring the strain in her shoulder, and ducked out of it. She kept low around the edge of the building and oriented herself to work through back alleys and side streets. With every step that took her farther from John the more she realized she wanted nothing more than to stay by his side.

Whatever that may cost her.

* * *

John ignored Talbot, pulling on the military coat, and buttoned it appropriately before patting down his hair. He looked over their rented room before leaving it. Talbot followed close on his heels, muttering loud enough for John to hear him.

"You've no idea what this'll cost us."

"I know what I cost us but it's not worth it. It's not worth what we'd pay."

"It's supposed to be about what we get paid."

"It's blood."

"It's money, John. Good money. The kind of money we dream of making when we whack gangsters and shoot down criminals."

"And this time we were hired by a criminal to kill good people."

"Uh," Talbot choked a laugh, "I seem to remember the balding one tossing explosives into cars this morning and that girl, the one you shagged, she seemed pretty efficient with that rifle."

"Doesn't mean they were in the wrong."

"Doesn't mean we were either." Talbot adjusted his bag on his back, following John into the street. "We can't just walk away from this."

"It's too hot. Besides, both of the men are dead and I don't like her odds on her own with the Nazi party and every policeman they can scrounge up over this city after her."

"But-"

"No," John whirled on Talbot, "It's over and that's it. We're going somewhere far away and we're leaving all this behind us. End of discussion."

"Maybe for you."

"For both of us."

"Captain Bernhard," Talbot and John turned as Barrow approached them, followed by a group of Nazis in black uniformed as they erected a checkpoint on the street. "What are the chances of seeing you here?"

"Depends on what you believe about fate." John tried to hold the man's gaze, pointing to his arm. "That's a bit different from the last time we saw one another."

"It isn't a fashion statement, if you'll accept that as part of the explanation."

"I hope it's nothing serious."

"Serious enough to justify the sling." He pointed at Talbot, "And Lieutenant Truman's allergy to fish? Has it gotten better?"

"He croaks now but it's about all he can manage for another day or so."

"Unfortunate." Barrow cleared his throat, "I actually find myself in need of two more honor guard at my wedding."

"Wedding?" John paused, "I don't believe you mentioned that on the train. It robbed us of a chance to wish you congratulations."

"Yes, it did in a way." Barrow shrugged, "It was tomorrow but I think we're pushing it back a day."

"Nerves on her part?"

"More that I need a bit of time to heal and she's still in shock." Barrow tapped his shoulder, where the sling hung, "The same event that caused this gave us all a bit of a fright and we're going to take a day before we celebrate."

"I hope it is cause for celebrate and my sincerest congratulations." John went to leave but Barrow put a hand to his shoulder.

"If you're not going to get yourselves into too much trouble by delaying your return to Hamburg for another two days, perhaps you'd assist in my honor guard?"

"Seeing as your current guard is shy a few members?"

"They passed, rather tragically and suddenly, this morning."

John swallowed, "I see." He turned to Talbot, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. "I don't know if they can spare us two more days so I think we'll have to decline for the moment."

"If you find otherwise," Barrow extended a card and John took it. "I'll be staying there. It's my fiancé's home and you can come and retrieve your invitation in person."

"Thank you." John held up the card, "I'll hope to return on this excellent favor."

As he went to leave a line of children passed between them and one tripped over Barrow's boot. She sprawled on the cobblestones and John caught sight of the gold star on her jacket. Barrow stopped, as did all the children, and the girl hurried to rise. John waved her away but Barrow called after her.

"Why did you not move around us?"

"I-"

"Did you not see two officers talking?"

"I-" Her frightened eyes darted between John and Barrow before she shook her head. "I'm so sorry."

"As you should be." Barrow drew from his holster and shot the girl before John could blink.

His own hands itched at his holsters but Talbot grabbed his wrist, yanking painfully at it until John's arms relaxed. Barrow holstered his gun and turned back to them as John coughed. "So that makes four Jews?"

"What?"

John motioned toward the girl, trying not to see her out of the corner of his eye. "On the train, you held up three fingers. I assume that meant three Jews."

"No," Barrow smiled, "That meant three dozen."

"My mistake." John held up the card, hoping Barrow did not mistake the shake in his hand for fear. "I'll not forget again."

"I do hope you can both make it to the wedding." Barrow called after them as John started walking away. "It'll be a grand event. Held in the finest hall in the city."

John could only nod, teeth grinding against one another as they walked away. Talbot released his hold on John's wrist, nodding to himself. "You're right, we need to leave."

"I need to kill that man."

"And get yourself killed in the process," Talbot scoffed, "I don't think so. Not if I have anything to say about it."

"You may not."

"Here's the deal." Talbot put his hand to John's chest, "We leave now, you don't kill him, and I don't complain about the money we didn't make on this shitstorm. Fair?"

John took a deep breath and nodded. "Fair."

"Good." Talbot steered them toward the station, "Let's go to France and then England. We haven't been there in awhile."


	14. Case of Mistaken Identity

Bricker Residence, Same Day

Green scratched at his head, pacing the room as Bricker and Crowborough bickered back and forth while their respective doctors treated cosmetic cuts and scrapes. Jane huddled in the corner, fingers pulling at the blanket wrapped around her in time with her breathing, with her eyes staring at nothing. The butler twitched and fidgeted in the corner, hands straying toward the tea tray but never quite making up his mind as to what he wanted to do with it.

"If it wasn't for me listening to Green then we would've been in the wrong car and that assassin would've shot us from the roof."

"We were almost blown up you idiot." Crowborough flailing arm knocked the tray nearest his hand to the ground, breaking a ceramic bowl and startling Jane enough to send the girl crying out in the corner.

No one else noticed.

"I saved our lives."

"You got Barrow a bullet to the shoulder and me looking like this!" Crowborough pointed at his face with a trembling hand, "Cuts and scrapes. How'll this look when I report to the Fuhrer tomorrow?"

"Tell him you survived an assassination attempt."

"One where instead of capturing the assassins you killed them."

"It was your men who shot the bomber on the bicycle, not mine." Bricker railed back, "And my men are transporting the sniper and her accomplice from the roof as we speak."

"And the man with the machine gun? What about him?"

"We'll get him?"

"Will you?" Crowborough threw off the doctor, wrenching his coat over his shoulder. "Will you really?"

"I've not failed before."

"And yet it seems that every time I get close to you or we're about to reward your service something happens to us around this house." Crowborough spread his fingers, compressing the air between his waist and the floor as if he could send out feelers. "Don't tell me it's not suspicious that you're the center of not one but two attempts on my life."

"I've nothing to do with this."

"I don't believe in coincidence, Bricker." Crowborough leveled a finger at him, "Figure out what is going on and fix it or you'll find out what the Party does to those who fail us."

Crowborough stalked from the house, his doctor and entourage following swiftly behind him. Bricker knocked away his doctor's hands, kicking his chair out behind him, and stalking up to Green. "I hope you've a plan to fix this."

"I do." Green opened his arms, "Give me the position I asked for the men I need. Then we hunt them down."

"You think it's that simple? Just give you a position and some men and you hunt them down?" Bricker snarled, "I have men and I have position. Do you see that working for me now?"

"I see something that needs to work for you and that's me." Green sighed, "You're a man of business. Surely you comprehend the theory of compartmentalization and delegation."

"Of course I do."

"Then delegate this to me and let me take care of the problem." Green smiled, "If your men are handling the sniper and her friend from the roof, the bicycle man is dead, then that only leaves whomever runs their safe house here in Berlin and the man with the machine gun."

"What about the third man, the one you said was working with my-" Bricker paused, sneaking a look at Jane but her eyes were still focused on some spec in the corner. He leaned closer to Green to hiss, "Working with my daughter?"

"I've got it on good authority that he's already dead." Green put a hand on Bricker's shoulder, "Trust me, this will all work out as it's supposed to. I'll make sure of it."

* * *

Restaurant, Same Day

Branson fell through the door, heaving in deep breaths as his clothing dripped over the trap door. Footsteps came closer and he tried to lift himself but he could not manage the energy. Hands turned him over and Branson stared up into the faces of Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson.

"Did I miss it?"

They carried him down into the basement, laying him on his cot, and Mrs. Hughes hurried to get him a canteen. Branson tired to swallow too quickly and choked himself. As he struggled to breathe Mr. Carson's large hands slapped on his back hard enough to dispel the water.

"Thank you." Branson wheezed and Mrs. Hughes pulled a seat beside him.

"What happened? We thought you'd run off."

"I got shot." Branson twisted on the cot, fighting his coat to show them his side. "Most of it caught in my coat but it tore through me and I hit the water pretty hard. I swam out but I passed out in an alley and didn't wake up until this morning. I've been working my way back here through road blocks all day."

"They put those up after the plan went to hell." Mr. Carson confided and Branson frowned.

"How could that happen?"

"Someone started firing. It startled Mr. Moseley and one of the soldiers saw his bag." Mr. Carson shook his head, "He had to blow one of the cars early and then they shot him after he got the second one."

"Blew the petrol station sky high when his last explosive caught the tanks." Mrs. Hughes nodded, "But it was Captain Smith who really had us going."

"What'd you mean?"

"She didn't fire from her spot."

Branson shook his head, "That woman shot her own commanding officer. I don't believe she'd freeze."

"They switched cars," Mr. Carson put a hand over Mrs. Hughes. "And there was someone up there with her."

"What?"

"She turned her gun on them but they never fired." Mr. Carson flailed a hand in the air. "The soldiers caught sight of her and blew her position. She made it to another rooftop but then they got her. She's been arrested and I don't think we'll see her again."

"How could it get cocked up so quickly?" Branson ran a hand through his hair, shaking out the residual damp there before he stopped. "Wait, the man who shot me said something."

"In German?"

"No, in English." Branson shut his eyes, beating his palm against his forehead a moment before standing up in a rush. "He said 'Captain Green sends his regards'."

"Captain Green?" Mrs. Hughes frowned, "He's working for Mrs. Crawley. Why would he send a man to shoot you?"

"Unless he wasn't working for them at all." Branson growled, leaning against the wall as his legs shook, "It's why they moved up the meeting in Prague. They worried we'd been compromised so we left early to throw someone off our trail but it was bloody Green!"

"He's buggered us all." Mr. Carson stood, "We need to close this all down. Get rid of every piece of evidence that says we were here and be gone."

"We still have your ticket to Hamburg," Mrs. Hughes held it out to Branson. "Captain Smith and Mr. Moseley won't need theirs but yours is still valid."

"You could pretend to be Captain Smith and Mr. Moseley and go." Branson pointed at them, "You should go. Start a new life somewhere else."

"Are you not taking your ticket?"

Branson shook his head, reaching under his cot to pull out his things. "I swore to finish this job and if I'm the last one to do it then that's what I'll do."

"There's still the wedding." Mrs. Hughes took a breath, "It's at Hotel Esplanade. Bricker and Crowborough'll be there since it's Major Barrow marrying Ms. Jane Bricker."

"Then I'll be there too." Branson grabbed a machine gun and a few additional cartridges. "I always wanted to crash a wedding."

* * *

Bricker Residence, Same Day

Jane jumped when someone knocked on the door and clenched her fingers into a fist to try and stop how they shook. Her hand trembled around the knob but she turned it to open the door and sighed to see Sampson there. He held up the tea tray and she welcomed him inside.

"I thought you could use some tea."

"Thank you Sampson." Jane sat on the edge of her bed as he offered her a cup. "I need something to steady my nerves."

"You survived a harrowing ordeal today Ms. Jane," Sampson soothed. "I'm sure you've a right to be shaken up."

"They almost shot my father." Jane choked, "I think they might've been trying to shoot him."

"But he's alive and well now, Ms. Jane."

"What if they had shot him Sampson?" Jane's tremor had the cup tinkling on the side of the saucer. "What would I do without him?"

"Since it's not a worry we need have now, we'll not worry about it." Sampson pulled a chair over to her. "You just worry about drinking that tea and resting. You're getting married day after tomorrow and no man wants a bride not looking her best."

Jane nodded, sipping at her tea before putting it down in a hurry. "There's something else Sampson. Something I didn't tell Papa."

"What?"

"The sniper, the one shooting at us from the roof." Jane's voice went high, her wispy voice a whisper. "She was the woman from the shop."

"You think she followed you?"

"I don't know but I know she looked right at me and it was like looking in a mirror, Sampson." Jane clutched at his hands, "Please, tell me the truth, did my sister really die all those years ago?"

Sampson tried to pull away but Jane held him fast. "I didn't imagine it Sampson. No matter what Thomas or Papa would say about it being fear or shock or nerves I saw her. It was me. Or as close to me as another human being can get."

He sighed, covering her hands with his free one. "Your sister died, Ms. Jane. Died in my arms."

"It can't be Sampson," Jane wrenched herself free, "I know it was her and I'll prove it. I'll prove it to everyone."

She stormed from the room and went to the car, thrusting the slip of paper in the driver's face. "Take me this address, now."

* * *

Near the Restaurant, Same Day

Anna leaned against the wall, holding her arm to her stomach, and pushed off with her lagging strength. She hurried into the alley, the same one where she remembered John finding her, and slumped against a crate. Closing her eyes a moment, Anna tried to fight past the pain burning in her.

A click had her eyes opened and she stared into a mirror. But the mirror image of herself held a gun in her shaking hands and she stammered when she spoke. "Who are you and why did you try to kill my father?"

"I'm Anna Smith and I tried to kill a traitor and an SS general. Whether or not he's our father is your problem, not mine."

"What if I told you he's our father?" The other woman reached into her coat and pulled out a photograph, thrusting it in Anna's face. "That's us."

Anna took the photograph, rising slowly off the crate to stand, and investigated the picture. She frowned and pointed to one of the women. "I recognize that's my mother but I don't know that man as my father."

The other women bent to see the picture and Anna disarmed her, holding the gun to her. She raised her hands, quivering all over, and Anna disengaged the gun before tucking it in her pocket. Holding the photograph out to her, Anna nodded at it.

"Which one is your mother?"

The woman pointed, "That woman is our mother."

Anna shook her head, "I don't know that woman."

"The woman you called out mother was the nurse." The other woman shook her head, "You're my twin, Ethel Bricker."

Anna frowned, "I'll keep my name, thanks."

"Anna Smith, assassin?"

"I'm a sniper, not an assassin."

"Then why were you trying to shoot us?"

"Because General Crowborough's a murderer, your fiancé's a murderer, and your father enables them." Anna snorted, "You've no concept of the blood on which your little life is built."

"And you do?"

"I grew up wading in it." Anna hissed, backing the other woman into a wall. "Don't come here, however it is you got here, and try and make me feel guilty for trying to make the world a better place by riding it of three monsters."

"And what was your plan, go out in a blaze of glory?"

"It was just to take them out. Whatever happened next was up to whatever gods decided they cared enough to watch." Anna snorted, "If you'll excuse me, I'm leaving and you're not stopping me."

She reached the end of the alley as a car drove up. Anna stopped, ducking back and reaching for the gun in her pocket but the woman's hand came down on hers. "It's just my father. I'll go out, explain the situation, and we'll resolve this."

The woman walked out and before she could say a word Anna heard the crack of a gunshot. She covered her mouth and ducked down, hiding behind a stack of crates and pallets. Turning slightly she could see Bricker standing over the body with another man. The gun cracked again and Anna glimpsed Green.

"I think two through the head is more than enough, Mr. Bricker."

"The woman's an assassin sent here to kill me and perhaps my daughter. I'm making sure the bitch is dead." Bricker handed the gun to Green and Anna tried not to breathe. "Now I need to get back home and prepare for my daughter's wedding."

"Jane's a lucky girl for all the effort you're putting into her." Green sucked in a breath, "I'll take care of the body so no one's any the wiser."

"And you'll find the other man who escaped, the assassin and his accomplice?"

"Of course sir. That's what you're hiring me to do."

"Good. I don't want anymore mistakes."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Green left them as Bricker turned to the other man.

"I'm glad you told me where she was going. To think, she might've met this woman and thought she was her sister."

"I couldn't imagine taking the risk sir."

"Good thing we didn't."

Anna leaned back against the wall as the men left and tried to breathe. When car doors slammed shut she got to her feet and risked a peek around the corner to watch the car drive away. She barely risked a look at the body of her sister- Jane- in the back street before running toward the main thoroughfare.

Holding her arm, and trying not break down into nervous tears, Anna picked a direction and started walking. She had not gone far when someone called out to her. Pausing she waited to hear guns or running but it was only one voice.

Looking back over her shoulder she saw a man standing next to a car. "Ms. Bricker, did you still want me to drive you home?"

Anna pulled in a breath before nodding. "Yes, yes I do."


	15. We Who Are About to Die

Bricker Residence, Evening

Anna walked carefully around the house, practically on tiptoe as if any sudden movement might trigger a trap. She held her arm to her side, almost as if it would keep her whole body from touching the walls, as she wandered the space. The quiet eerily echoed her footsteps and had her jumping when someone called out to her.

Spinning on her heel, Anna saw the man who accompanied Bricker to the alley. With a swallow Anna tried to speak like her sister had. "Yes?"

"Have you hurt your arm Ms. Jane?"

"I think it's from earlier." Anna rubbed at it through the material of her coat. "I guess in all the excitement it took time for me to notice but it's nothing. Just a twinge."

The man came toward her, putting a hand on her shoulder. It took all Anna had not to stiffen at the gesture. "You've endured quite a lot today. More than any bride the day before her wedding deserves to."

"I'd say I've endured no more or less than anyone else there today." Anna took a deep breath, "And I'm sure if my father could bear it then I can too."

"Good girl." He dropped his hand, "You did leave in such a state earlier."

"Yes," Anna answered slowly, "I was all nerves wasn't I?"

He shuffled, "Did you go to the address the glasses maker gave you?"

"I thought about it but decided I shouldn't." Anna shrugged up one shoulder, trying to make her smile spread over the tight muscles of her face. "I wasn't thinking and I wouldn't have found anything anyway."

"So you went shopping instead?" Anna raised her eyebrows as the man pointed to her clothes, "This coat isn't one you've worn before."

"No, it's not." Anna pulled at it. "It was an impulse buy, nothing more."

"It's a comfort to me that once women have purchased something they feel far more at ease with themselves." The man went to walk away but stopped, "I did go to the address."

"Did you?"

"Yes, and it's just a restaurant with a lovely serving girl who has your hair but otherwise she looks nothing like you."

"Thank you. That eases my conscience on a great many things." Anna edged toward the stairs. "I think I might have a lie down before supper. Just to see if I can clear my head of today and be ready for tomorrow."

"Good idea. All the wedding plans need finalized and Major Barrow'll need you fighting fit."

"For Major Barrow I'll be whatever he needs." Anna ground her teeth and turned up the stairs.

She found the room with relative ease, noting the only room with any sign of feminine influence, and locked herself inside. Anna put her back to the door, leaning her head against it a moment to gather herself. But when she opened her eyes her hand went over her mouth.

There, hanging from the wardrobe was a wedding dress. The fitting from the day before, the discussion of finalized wedding plans, and the discussion back in Prague. Anna tried to stifle her sobs as the reality of what she was doing and where she was hit her with the force of a train. She was pretending to be her dead twin sister.

The same sister their father, her target, shot twice in cold blood.

The same sister engaged to marry Major Thomas Barrow.

The same sister who now gave Anna another chance to complete her mission.

She wiped away her tears, removed her coat with only a slight grimace at the pull to her sore shoulder, and located the washbasin. A splash of water would not be enough but it got her mind working again. The same mind that started hatching a plan.

* * *

Restaurant, That Night

Branson blinked at the plans. "It's a tighter kill box than before but we're two people fewer than we were then."

"Be easier for you to get in and out." Mr. Carson held up a saltshaker. "This'll represent the bystanders and the pepper'll be those you'll need to worry about."

"It'll be a tight target, trying to get Major Barrow when he's standing on the arm of Ms. Bricker." Branson rubbed over his face before pulling back his hair, "If there was ever a time for a sniper."

"Captain Smith'd never get her position in there." Mrs. Hughes waved her hand over the floor plan. "They've picked one of the ballrooms on the second floor and it's got no balcony."

"Entrances and exits?"

"There's a lift that opens right into the rear of the ballroom," Mr. Carson set a small block of wood there. "We could get you in late tomorrow and if you take position on top of it you could sneak into the wedding."

"What about other entrances?"

"There're two staircases. The main and the side." Mrs. Hughes tapped each in turn. "The small staircase wraps to the kitchen but they'll have someone there. The main staircase breaks in two near the top to give two points of egress on either side of the lift."

Branson bent his arms on the table, chewing the inside of his cheek, "If I could get in there after they do a sweep I could plant some explosives to take out the main staircase. It'd limit them to the kitchen and then put them right in my path." He drew an invisible line from the lift to the room. "All in sight once I get ahold of a machine gun."

"We could get one in there." Mr. Carson mused a moment, "If we posed as last minute cleaners we'd have access to all of it. They'd never suspect the last minute help."

"They'll need it since they're delaying the wedding a day and they've got to get rid of everything that's gone off." Mrs. Hughes snorted, "Rich people and their expensive weddings. Why not just have a table loaded with a hearty breakfast and use the auditorium in a school? It's more efficient."

"It's what posh people do." Branson stood, "Make it all the more difficult for everyone else."

"If we don't get some shut eye then we'll just make it more difficult for ourselves." Mr. Carson nodded toward Branson. "Well get those uniforms and then we've got some preparation ahead of us."

"Better than twiddling our thumbs."

"There was always Hamburg." Mrs. Hughes sighed wistfully, "I guess we've made out bed and now we've got to lie in it."

"I'm just glad I'm not lying in mine alone." Mr. Carson murmured and Branson shuddered at the thought.

"Mr. Carson!" Mrs. Hughes blushed before swatting him on the arm. "That's hardly appropriate."

"Can't a man compliment his wife?"

"He can when there aren't other people in the room." Mrs. Hughes put a hand on Branson's arm, "We are glad that you're still here, Mr. Branson. I know the situation's not ideal but we're in this with you until the end."

"Let's hope we can manage to get to that end and hope it's a happy one." Branson sat on his cot, watching Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes leave the basement before frowning at the table with its detailed schematics. "But what other end could we expect but a bad one?"

* * *

Bricker Residence, Same Night

Anna gripped tightly about her fork to stop her hand shaking. She speared something on her plate, not entirely sure what delicacy some cook had gone to the trouble of preparing in such abundance for the two of them, and chewed slowly. Her focus stayed on her plate as her peripherals tracked Bricker's movements. When he turned to her Anna reached for her knife but he only cleared his throat to speak.

"Jane, I hope you are feeling better. I know this morning was…" He seemed to struggle with words, "Unfortunate."

"I'm feeling much better." Anna nibbled at something else before putting her utensils down. "And you? Are you feeling alright?"

"It's just…" Bricker sighed, "None of this looks good for us Jane. I'm sure you heard what General Crowborough was raving earlier."

"I don't remember, it's all rather a blur until I got some fresh air."

"Yes," Bricker's face sobered and Anna swallowed while tightening her grip on her knife again. "Sampson said you were in a state earlier. You were raving about finding your sister."

"Was I?" Anna tried to laugh at the comment, keeping her voice high as she pulled a napkin to her lips. "I guess I don't remember what I said until sense returned."

"It's no matter. I'm sure Sampson told you that he visited the address you had and it was nothing. Just a woman about your stature with blonde hair."

"Yes, he mentioned it." Anna slipped her fingers off her knife. "It was very kind of him to investigate for me."

"He said you went shopping?"

"Yes."

Bricker sniggered, "I guess I should be grateful. It's the last bill I'll ever pay as your father."

"I'm sure, after the wedding, you'll be glad to be rid of me."

"I'll be glad to be free of the expenses." Bricker continued his laugh, "Poor Major Barrow, he's no idea what he's getting himself into financially with you."

"I'm sure Major Barrow'll have a great many surprises when it comes to marrying me." Anna arranged her silverware to cross at the top of her plate. "I hope you'll forgive me father but I'm feeling exhausted after the stress of today. I think I'll take a turn around the garden and then retire early."

"Very well." Anna stood, walking around the table toward the French doors, "Remember, Major Barrow's stopping by tomorrow. He wants to finalize the plans since your venue'll have to support more protection. "

"Of course." Anna stretched her smile, "Given what happened today it's no wonder."

"Yes," Bricker cut into his meat with a viciousness that set Anna's teeth on edge. "It's no wonder at all."

"Good night then." Anna went to the doors, her hand on the knob, when Bricker called out.

"No kiss for me then?"

Anna forced herself to turn, marching the steps toward him, and bent to place her lips ever-so-gently on his cheek. Bricker smiled and she felt the hum through his cheek before pulling back. It took everything she had not to wipe the back of her hand over her mouth.

"Sleep well Jane."

"And you."

Anna went into the garden, hauling in deep breaths as she worked her way toward a bench near a back shed. She sat on the stone, relishing the chill of it through her skit, and ran her fingers deep into her hair before bending over at the waist to try and stop the spinning in her head. As she straightened she heard a noise.

Jumping to her feet Anna squinted in the darkness and noted a shape emerging from the shed. Light glinted off a piece of metal and Anna's blood ran cold when she recognized a carving knife. Her eyes met the face of Sampson and she backed into the tree behind her as he held the knife to her neck.

"Who are you?"

"I'm Jane, Sampson."

"Jane would've called me by name earlier, in the corridor." The knife pricked Anna's skin and she flinched. "You waited until your father mentioned it at supper before you referred. Jane grew up with me her entire life and I recognized something off about you the moment you entered the house."

Anna held still, her hand curving so the blade of it could strike out. "Then I'm sure you recognized when your employer shot his daughter in the head this afternoon."

Sampson froze and Anna seized her chance. Her hand struck out, cutting to his throat and he choked before he could call out and Anna heard the snap of the larynx. She ducked the knife as he dropped it to put both hands to his throat, and dropped to kick his legs out from under him.

He fell heavily to the ground and Anna crawled over him to loop her hand around his necktie. She pulled tight, sitting on his chest with her knees on his armpits, and pressed on the knot with her other hand. Sampson kicked and struggled, choking as he reached for her face but Anna avoided his flailing hands. Pressing her weight on his neck she waited.

After a few moments, with Sampson's face a more distinctive shade of blue than the tinge the night gave it, Anna released her hold. Sitting back and taking a deep breath Anna searched the garden. Spotting the shed she snatched up the carving knife and opened the door before tossing the carving knife inside. With her hands under his armpits, she lugged Sampson over the grass and dropped him onto the floor of the shed.

Anna leaned on the door to close it and sighed. Sweat beaded on her brow and she wiped it away. A light clicked on in the house and Anna froze. But it was only Bricker in his room, completely oblivious to what just occurred in his garden. Anna pushed off the door and headed toward the house.

Her hands still shook when she placed them on the knob so Anna took a few deep breaths. "It's alright. It's only two more days and then you're free. It'll all be over soon."

* * *

Berlin Train Station, Next Morning (One Day Until Wedding)

John drummed his fingers on his boot before finally pushing himself to stand. He reached over Talbot's head to grab his hat and a bag before pulling the door to the carriage back.

"Hey!" Talbot grabbed his arm, fingers digging into the cloth there to stop John leaving. "Don't tell me you're going back there."

"I'm not letting that smug bastard get away with it."

"He's already getting away with it because, if you haven't noticed, his uniform is real and ours are fake." Talbot released John and pointed to the seat across from him, "Your ass should be in that seat and we'll be in France before the day's over before we make our way back to England. That's what's within our grasp."

"He's within my grasp and I won't live with the reality that I let him slip through my fingers."

"John," Talbot pleaded, "He's just one man. What'll you do?"

"Kill him, one man to another." John tapped Talbot's cheek, "Take care of yourself Henry."

"John!" But John was already off the train.

* * *

Hotel Esplanade, Same Day

Branson hefted the workbag, sniffing at the smells wafting over the room, and turned to Mr. Carson, "I'll follow your lead Mr. Carson."

"That's not actually as comforting as I thought it would be." Mr. Carson cleared his throat and approached a woman with a darker complexion and enough wrinkles to give her a permanently dissatisfied look. "We're here about the lift."

"There's no problem with the lift." She looked them up and down, "You're not the regular repairmen."

"Sadly they couldn't be called in such short notice but given the increase in security and the inevitability of the lift ferrying more people up and down," Branson lifted his bag, "We're here to make it all easier for everyone. Make sure it's running as smoothly as the Danube."

"I guess it can't hurt." Her lip upturned, "You're not locals are you?"

"We're from the country, Bavarians natively." Mr. Carson hurried to explain, a hand on Branson's shoulder to push him toward the lift. "Get complaints on our accents all the time."

"Well be quick with the lift since we've got new loads of flowers coming in." The woman blustered, "They think they can just delay a wedding like it's putting off spring cleaning."

"How thoughtless of them." Branson agreed before ducking away to join Mr. Carson. They loaded into the lift and Branson put out a hand at someone trying to enter. "Sorry, quick safety check."

She snorted as the doors closed and Branson waited until all was dark about them before pulling the emergency stop. The machine stuttered and he set down his workbag to grab the ceiling. Mr. Carson offered him a boost through the opening and Branson climbed to the roof of the lift.

"It'll be a tight squeeze but I could wait here a bit." Branson reached down for his bag and Mr. Carson handed it up to him. "I'm worried about my tools rattling around up here."

"We could find a way to strap them down."

"I've got it." Branson jammed the gun under a pipe and took the sack holding his ammunition and tied it to the same pipe. "All ready for me tomorrow."

"What about the stairs?" Mr. Carson gave Branson a hand down, holding the now almost-empty bag. "They'll see us working there."

"The one thing I learned when I was in the Army, other than explosives, is that no one questions a man with a ladder." Branson grinned, "We just need one and something about checking wiring. No one'll bat an eye."

"Sometimes I wonder if your skills aren't wasted in this life Mr. Branson."

"I'm starting to get that feeling as well Mr. Carson."

* * *

Bricker Residence, Same Day

Anna touched at her hair, opening the door with a false smile plastered over her face. A smile she found herself applying disgustingly often in this house. Major Barrow removed his hat and walked inside.

Without warning he took her hand and Anna froze under his attentions. But he only kissed it gently before returning it to her. She swallowed, nodding to his arm in a sling. "Is it feeling any better than yesterday?"

"It's still sore and the doctor's noted a few small fractures but they'll heal quickly." Barrow left his hat on the stand and removed his coat with a frown. "Where's Sampson, he's usually the one at the door."

"He's been missing all morning." Bricker joined them, shaking Barrow's hand before trading places to reach the door. "I'd stay to reprimand him, whenever he does put in an appearance, but I'm late for a meeting with General Crowborough about increased security at the wedding."

"I just discussed that with him this morning." Barrow's face fell and Anna suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. "I thought we'd managed on the details."

"I'm sure you did." Bricker put a hand on Barrow's shoulder, "This is just a friend consoling a worried father."

"Your daughter's in no safer hands than mine, I can assure you." Barrow paused, smiling, "Well, for the moment, hand."

"Then I entrust her to you for the afternoon." Bricker kissed Anna on the cheek she presented him and shook Barrow's available hand. "I should be back by supper."

"I'll wait for you then." Anna shut the door after Bricker and heard Barrow's steps taking him to the kitchen.

"I don't suppose your cook could manage a spot of tea."

"I'm sure she could." Anna turned toward the kitchen, "Make yourself comfortable then while I go and see."

The kitchen was empty so Anna set the kettle on the stove, boiling the water and then whistling softly the collection of tea. She took each canister, inhaling deeply to better familiarize herself with the flavors before choosing one, and set two cups on the tray with some left over cake from supper. With the teapot filled and everything ready, she handled the tray and weaved through the house to the sitting room.

When she reached the doorway she froze. Standing there, in a Nazi uniform, was John. He spoke cordially to Barrow but Anna noted the way the muscle twitched in his jaw as they spoke. It took until Barrow stood for John to even not someone else in the room.

Their eyes met as Anna set the tea tray on a small table and extended a hand. "I don't think I've had the pleasure."

"Jane this is Captain Bernhard, he'll be part of my honor guard for tomorrow." Barrow clapped his good hand to John's shoulder. "He was good enough to get additional leave to help me out of my predicament."

"How kind of you Captain." She took her hand back, sliding her fingers along his palm. "I am curious how someone, such as yourself, could manage an incredible feat."

"I'm very persuasive." He pointed to the tea, "I hope you don't mind if I pour for us."

"I've only two cups so I'm sure it'll be an adventure in itself." Anna paused, "Though we could share one, if you don't find that offensive."

"I don't." John handed her the cup and put hands on the teapot. "I once shared a lovely cup of coffee with a woman at a café in Prague once."

"Did you?" Anna accepted the cup before handing it to Barrow, "Unfortunately I don't have cream for this as I would for coffee. I'd assume you're the kind who'd take a generous helping of it in yours."

"Well spotted."

"I've an eye for things like that." Anna took her set and held up a hand to stop John giving her his cup, "I'm actually alright, thank you."

"If you insist." John resumed his seat, turning to Barrow. "You're a lucky man. If I'd now your fiancé was this gorgeous I might've tried to steal her from you myself."

"I am lucky." Barrow nodded toward Anna, "But it's also just convenient. Her father works closely with my commanding officer and what better way to cement their partnership than our union?"

"Then your commanding officer sees you as a son?" John prodded and Anna coughed into her hand to hide her snort.

"It's a bit more difficult to explain than that." Barrow's knuckles whitened on his teacup. "But we are close."

"How fortunate for you." John raised his cup, "In other circumstances I'd give you a very long toast and wish happiness upon you both."

"Your attendance in the honor guard is happiness enough for us." Barrow stood, "I'm sorry to leave you like this but I've just realized that I need to inspect the hotel again. Make sure it's all settled for tomorrow."

"Leaving so soon?" Anna tried to chide, trying to tramp down the urge to cry with joy. "My father was so hoping you'd keep me company for the remainder of the day since he's away. And finalize our other plans."

"And in other circumstances I would. However," Barrow led the way to the door, managing his coat one handed and then his hat. "I'll just have to leave you in the are of my honor guard, Captain Bernhard here."

"It'd be my honor to entertain Ms. Bricker." John waved off Barrow's gratitude. "I've nothing else to occupy my time and I'm sure a few hours won't go amiss here."

"Then I'll see you both tomorrow." Barrow kissed Anna's cheek, "Give your father my apologies when you see him."

"I will." When the door shut Anna turned to John. "What are you doing here?"

"Retrieving my invitation." John flipped the note from his jacket pocket. "I'll need it to get into the wedding tomorrow."

"What are you doing coming to the wedding?"

"I'm his honor guard." Anna scowled as John tucked the letter away. "I'm going there so I can kill that smug bastard."

"Defending my honor?"

"I didn't know he was marrying you." John snorted, "Or that your name was Jane Bricker."

"My name is Anna Smith and I'm standing in for Jane Bricker since her father shot her in front of me yesterday." Anna shook her head, "Case of mistaken identity."

"Quite the mistake."

"We're identical twins, as it so happens." Anna pointed John to a photograph, "Don't you see the likeness there?"

"I see two children hardly older than five."

"I'm there," Anna put her finger on the little girl with the nurse. "And Jane Bricker is there."

"Jane who's dead?"

"Jane who's dead." Anna affirmed, "But why are you here?"

"I told you, so I can kill Major Barrow."

"He's my target."

"Not anymore." John pointed a finger toward the door, "That man shot a girl in front of me yesterday and I'm not allowing that Jew-hating narcissist a day longer to breathe than I have to."

"So you'll kill him at the wedding?" Anna snorted, "How romantic."

"It's not like you're going to the wedding to find a happy ending."

"I'm going there to kill General Crowborough and Mr. Bricker."

John stopped, "That's suicide."

"And what you're doing isn't?"

"I've got nothing to live for."

"Neither have I."

They stood in the entryway of the house, staring at one another as John's fingers risked the barest of touches to her cheek. "What I meant, was that I've nothing to live for if you're not alive."

"We left one another yesterday, John, under the knowledge that we're both going to die." Anna closed her eyes, basking in the feel of John's fingers on her and the awareness of him stepping closer to her. "If we're not going to live than what would it matter?"

"Because then I'd know you'd be alive. You could be happy somewhere else." His lips hinted near her ear. "You could dream of a better man and find him."

"That would be impossible." Anna drew back, finally opening her eyes. "Because they aren't any."

John's lips met hers and Anna reached a careful hand to the back of his neck to hold him steady. Unlike their meeting in the hotel in Prague, there was no rush to the finish in the heat of the moment. And unlike their work in the alley, there were no illusions left to them.

This was the rawest and barest of emotions made known.

Anna guided John up the stairs to the bedroom she claimed as her own. The door closed and they moved almost as if they were dancing. John's jacket and shoes thumped to the floor as Anna's did, leaving them to sculpt over the skin they wanted to know better and greeted like old acquaintances.

The bed shifted under John's weight as Anna stood between his legs to leave her lips close to his. They brushed, caressed, and sucked slightly before John addressed her neck with his mouth and Anna's fingers slipped his tie from his neck. Cool air mixed with the warmth of his breath on her chest as he popped the buttons on her blouse and Anna's fingers crinkled the white of his shirt when he set his tongue to tease slightly near her navel.

"Is there anyone else in the house?"

"The cook's gone and the butler's…" Anna's eyes flicked toward the window, where the shed was only just visible. "Indisposed."

"Then I won't worry." John's hands untucked her blouse from her skirt and glided over her skin as he kissed toward her brassiere. "I want to leave you crying out."

"Trying to change my mind?"

"Trying to change mine." He murmured against her skin, slipping his tongue out to trace a line around the edge of the fabric holding her breast in place. "Maybe I could convince you not to marry that man."

"He'll be dead before the vows," Anna dug her fingers in John's hair, her legs wobbling slightly when he pulled her closer to unlatch the snaps holding her brassiere together. "I wouldn't worry."

"I could take his place." John tipped back, allowing Anna to drop her blouse to the floor and leave her brassiere on top of it.

"I'd like that." She traced his lips, bending slightly to grip his neck and force him onto his back, "I think you'd like something else more."

Without waiting for his response Anna unbuckled his belt and shucked his trousers and stockings off in one go. John shivered and Anna grinned with the tent in his pants twitched. Her fingers grabbed the fabric at his thighs and dragged it slowly over his legs, leaving him to bob free.

She mounted the bed, putting her knees on either side of his waist while drawing her own skirt up so it would not catch. The rasp of fabric against his skin had John clawing into the duvet while Anna leaned over him. With the buttons of her skirt right on his erection, Anna dragged over him to unbutton his shirt.

John groaned, throwing his head back as Anna spread his shirt open and mapped his chest with her hands. Dipping kisses over the muscles there she nipped and licked over him. "It feels like an eternity since I've seen this."

"It's been about that long." John choked out, twisting to get his shirt to the floor and leaving him entirely bare to her. "But what about you?"

"Patience, John," Anna chided, tugging her teeth over the skin near his nipple while her fingers raked up from his hips. "We've the afternoon and I'd like to enjoy this."

"Please." He moaned as Anna zigzagged her way down to his hips.

Her fingers massaged there, feeling over the flesh of his thighs and teasing closer and closer to where he rose higher and higher. Anna kissed around his base while handling his sack in her hand to let a groan escape John. With a moment to prepare, she dug her fingers into his hips and took him in her mouth.

John howled at the ceiling as Anna worked over him with teeth and tongue in tandem. Sucking deeply before retreating to shallower swallows left his whole body shuddering under her. And when Anna snuck her tongue into his slit his hands gripped her upper arms.

He sat up so quickly it was all Anna could do not to fall off his lap but John's lips on hers gave her a solid foundation. His hands scrambled to work her skirt and slip loose before the tearing of fabric told her the sudden confusion of her clothing needed a cooler head. She pushed back, shedding the now ruined knickers, but when she went to turn back to John he was at her back.

"Like this," He whispered in her ear, placing her hands carefully on the back of the chair near the bed. "Please?"

"Why?"

"Because I want to see all of you." John's lips tickled over her neck and shoulders, his hands finding her breasts as he wrapped around her. "I want to know all of you in however many ways I can before we both die."

"But I can't see you."

"Then just feel me." He whispered by her ear, "Please?"

Anna responded by pressing back with her body toward his, dragging his arousal over the cress of her ass. He growled and sank his teeth into the juncture by her throat at the same time his fingers gripped her hips to hold her still. There was a beat and then Anna moaned at the feeling of John buried in her again.

A feeling she knew was finite and far too close to its end.

His fingers left her hips, one hand traveling back to knead and handle her breasts while the other worked toward her nerves and folds. Anna used on hand on the chair back to give her the leverage to match John's thrusts while the other wrapped over his neck to hold his mouth to her. They turned their heads, mouths clashing and tongues tangling as John rutted against her and Anna eagerly met his thrusts.

When he pinched her nerves and nipple simultaneously Anna shrieked, losing her hold on his lips, and crashed over the edge with his determined manipulations of her nerves and skin. He followed a moment later, leaving them both panting and leaning over the chair. It was perfect.

It was the end.

Anna moved off John, walking gingerly to face him. He smiled at her but she watched it die before it could reach his eyes. She put a hand to his cheek.

"I don't regret it you know."

"I don't either." He turned to kiss her palm, holding it in place with his own hand dwarfing hers. "I should but I don't."

"Even thought we're assassins and doomed to die?"

"Perhaps especially because of that." John guided them both to the bed where they sat on the edge together. "But if I had to do it over again, I wouldn't change anything."

"I might change our circumstances so we could stay in that hotel in Prague." Anna sighed, moving a bit of his hair off his forehead. "Leave this to me John. Let me finish this on my own."

"I can't do that Anna."

"Why not?"

"Because it's personal for me now."

Anna snorted, "We don't have time to be personal in this John. We've got to be dispassionate and focused."

"After what we just did you're telling me we need to be dispassionate?"

"What we're proposing to do tomorrow'll leave us bleeding in that hotel. If we succeed, and that chance is slim, we'll be arrested and executed." Anna shook her head, "There's no solution to our problem that ends well."

"Then we'll have to make sense of the end we're given."

"And what kind of end is that?"

John wiped a tear from her cheek before Anna realized it was there. "Enough for me. For now."

Anna nodded, "Me too."

She took John's face between her hands and kissed him again. Before they realized it John was over her, shifting between her spread legs, and holding at her neck to better trace her mouth with his tongue. Anna's hands were stroking John to hardness again while his other hand slipped over her wet folds.

When he sank a finger deep inside her Anna cried out. When he laved over her breasts again she notched her leg over his hip and dragged him closer with a heel in his ass. And when he maneuvered to brush against her Anna could only whisper.

"Please."

They rocked against one another. John dragged to the edge, plunging back inside her with excruciating slowness before returning to the brink. Anna called over his shoulders and back, her hips rising to meet him, and arched her neck off the pillows to ease the sensations moving through her.

"Come with me Anna." He urged, kissing over her jaw before slowing as he looked into her eyes. "If it's the last time, come with me."

"Yes."

Peeking together, their voices echoed in their ears. Anna heaved for air, her chest pressing against John's and kissing over any of his skin she could reach. He returned her kisses before turning them to their sides.

They lay together, Anna wrapped in John's arms with her head on his chest, on the bed as they cooled. Eventually Anna moved to wash, changing into her clothes as John sorted himself. They walked down to the entry as sounds came from the kitchen and Anna helped John into his coat.

"Thank you for an… inspiring afternoon Captain." Anna stepped back, extending her hand. "I hope you change your mind about tomorrow."

"Just as I hope you will." He leaned over, "But I don't think you will."

"We know each other too well already."

"That we do." John kissed her hand, "That we do."

"I wish you luck."

"And the same to you."


	16. The Bride Wore White

Bricker Residence, Next Day (The Wedding)

She looked herself over in the mirror and took a deep breath. The dress hung slightly larger on her but the height worked and she fit the shoes. With a tremble in her hand she placed the veil and drew it over her face.

Her hand clutched at the bannister and she walked down the stairs. The fingers of her other hand gripped the fabric of her dress to keep it free of her shoes while her knuckles whitened. Bricker stood at the bottom of the stairs, hat in his hand, and looked up as she reached him.

"Gorgeous my dear." He planted a half-hearted kiss on her cheek. "Just what Major Barrow'll be expecting to greet him at the end of the aisle."

Anna bit back a response and linked her arm through the crook of Bricker's. He led them out to the car and helped her get into the backseat before joining her. His leg positively bounced up and down as he squeezed her hand.

"I know this is your big day Jane but I don't think you realize what this means for me. What it'll mean for us."

"My happiness?" Anna breathed, her focus forward on the scenery passing outside the car.

"My company's success." Bricker let out an excited sigh, "It'll mean the joining of business and family. The perfect combination to ensure we don't get forgotten when the Fuhrer moves his plans forward."

"We wouldn't want that." Anna agreed, arranging her dress over her knees. "No one wants to be forgotten."

"Exactly right." He tugged on her hand before pulling off his hat to check his hair. "We're making our way up Jane."

"What a shame then that my mother and sister couldn't live to see it." Anna risked a flick of her gaze at Bricker, noting his swift swallow. "I'm sure they could've benefitted as well."

"Yes… yes they could've." He swallowed, "But not every story has a happy ending. Unfortunate as it is we'll have to remember them with us in spirit, since they're not with us in body."

They remained silent the rest of the ride and when the car pulled outside the hotel Anna gritted her teeth to stop the shiver that ran over her body with the chill racing in her blood. She took Bricker's offered hand and smiled at those who called out congratulations. Her eyes wandered the crowd and for a brief instant she thought she recognized Mr. Carson but she blinked in the flash of a camera and he was gone.

* * *

Hotel Esplanade

Green checked his watch, noting Bricker and Jane making their way up the back stairs toward the room above, when someone tugged on his sleeve. He turned to see a woman with stretched skin and an upturn to her lip that gave Green the distinct impression the woman suffered from perpetual dissatisfaction. Her wrinkles edged at her face, from frowning and not smiling if her current attitude were any indicator.

"Yes?"

"Are you the one in charge of security here?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because there's a man here that came in yesterday to repair the lift."

"And?"

"The lift didn't need repairs." She leaned in closer and Green strained to hear her over the din of the guests and the occupants of the hotel. "It'd been checked that morning and it ran just fine."

"I don't know anything about that but if you'll excuse me-" Green tried to walk away but she grabbed his sleeve. "Madam, unless you want to experience the unpleasantness of a cell, you'll remove your hand."

"That man's here again and he's milling around the corner of the room looking shifty." She pointed and Green followed her finger to see a man with bushy eyebrows and an imposing nose standing in the corner. "He's up to something, I can feel it."

"And why would he be up to something?"

"I don't know but if I heard right this wedding's between some important people." She gave a half smile before nudging her elbow into Green's side. "I'm sure you know of a few people who'd like to see this wedding not happen."

Green stood taller, studying the man in the corner before turning back to the woman. "What's your name?"

"I'm Ms. Denker." She gave a slight curtsey. "I'm the event organizer here."

"You must hear an awful lot while you're here, Ms. Denker."

"Oh I do." She tapped the side of her nose. "It's why I've got another job passing information on to those in charge."

"That must earn you a pretty spare penny."

"It's earned me a few pennies, yes." She rolled her shoulders back. "And it could earn you something too if you drop my name in the circles you run about in."

"I'm sure my circles could find a good use for you Ms. Denker." Green nodded to her, "What else can you tell me about him?"

"He brought the restaurant truck. The one from the place in Templehof."

"Templehof?" Green frowned, "I was there two days ago."

"Then I guess you're seeing how this isn't a coincidence?" Ms. Denker gave a satisfied smirk. "I'm coming in more handy by the minute."

"Yes you are Ms. Denker." Green smiled, "I'm sure you'll come in very handy."

* * *

Branson watched the people file into the lift and up the stairs. He continued his scan of the room, blood boiling as he laid eyes on Green. But he noted Green's eyes occupied with something on the other side of the room as the woman from the day before spoke with him.

With a frown, Branson followed the direction of their gaze and saw Mr. Carson in the corner. He swallowed hard before ducking to the side, out of eyesight, and pretended to busy himself reading the travel pamphlets next to the concierge's desk. Occasionally he flicked his gaze to the side and watched as Green and the woman made a beeline for Mr. Carson.

Whatever chat they had seemed friendly enough on the outside but Branson watched Mr. Carson stiffen, his bushy eyebrows flexing with rapidity as the conversation continued. After a moment Green escorted the man outside and the woman folded her arms over her chest while her mouth twitched upward to grin. When her body shifted Branson ducked to the side again, avoiding her focus, and finally worked into the shadows.

After a moment he reached for the desk and tapped the top. The man there raised an eyebrow and Branson pointed to the phone. With a shrug, the man passed it over and Branson stuck the receiver to his ear, dialing the number for the restaurant.

"Hello."

"Mrs. Hughes, it's Branson." He whispered into the receiver, "Green's got Mr. Carson and I think they'll be to you soon."

"What?"

"I don't know exactly how it happened but the woman from yesterday who saw us fiddling with the lift put him on her trail."

"What's he doing there?"

"Looks like he's on Bricker's security."

A beleaguered sigh echoed through the phone, "Explains why he was moving that poor girl's body from the street two days ago. Must be in Bricker's employ now."

"Whatever he's doing it can't be good." Branson took a breath, "You need to get out of there Mrs. Hughes. They'll come for you."

"I'll not leave what my husband and I built here."

"You'll both die, Mrs. Hughes."

"Then use the time you've got to finish off those bastards at that wedding." Branson started when he heard something on the other end of the line. "Hold on."

* * *

Restaurant

Green waved the additional men off, "Search the place, make sure we're alone here."

"Yes sir." The three men scattered over the building as Green held a gun up toward the man. "I think you were just telling me about the interior of your little restaurant."

"I'd feel better showing it to you if you didn't have that gun." He nodded to it as they approached the front doors. "My wife doesn't like guns. They make her very nervous."

"Do they?" Green put a hand to his mouth, "Then I guess we'll all be a little nervous here, won't we?"

The bell over the door jangled and Green patted the taller man on the shoulder. He preceded Green inside and stepped out of the way as Green entered. A shorter woman emerged from the back and stiffened at the sight of Green's gun.

He held it up, "I'm sorry, your husband warned me you didn't like guns but I feel this conversation needs to recognize a bit of weight and that won't happen without this." Green pointed to a chair, "May I sit?"

"It doesn't look like we're in a position to refuse you." The woman waved a hand toward the bar, "Would you like a drink too?"

"No," He smiled, "I'm currently on duty and I need to keep my head sharp Mrs.?"

'Hughes."

"Then, Mr. and Mrs. Hughes," He opened his hands for them to take chairs of their own. "I'm sure you'd like to sit as well."

"I thought it'd be better for us to stand on ceremony." Mrs. Hughes held Green's stare, "Mr. Carson and I don't often have the chance to entertain someone like yourself."

"What kind of someone is that?"

"Someone who'd have three men circle our restaurant to trap us here or would move a dead girl's body from the back alley."

Green paused, "So you saw that?"

"We're not blind." Mr. Carson gruffed, "We saw the entourage you brought with you when she died as well."

"Did you now?" Green nodded, making a face, "That's unfortunate."

"How so?"

"Because it might put my employer in a very awkward position and his daughter's getting married today so I've no time to waste." Green stood and fired.

Mrs. Hughes shrieked as Mr. Carson fell back. Her hands went over her mouth as she knelt next to the body. Tears dripped down almost immediately and she clutched at the flopping hand of her husband.

"Now, Mrs. Hughes," Green pushed back his hair as the trembling woman turned to him. "I'm sure you'd like to answer a few questions for me."

"I-" She pointed to the body of Mr. Carson. "Why?'

"Because I'm paid to protect my employer. Should anyone find out what you know about what you saw that could be dangerous to him." Green crouched next to her, "But you'll cooperate, won't you?"

Mrs. Hughes gave her husband one last look before nodding. "Good. Now, we're going somewhere a little quieter where we can have a discussion about what your husband was doing at the hotel yesterday."

"I'll just…" Mrs. Hughes stood, grabbing the bar behind her for support, "I'll just get my coat."

Green smiled to himself as he tucked his gun away. But he frowned when he heard Mrs. Hughes say 'good luck'. When the gunshot rang out he sprinted to the back room to see Mrs. Hughes on the floor, a gun in her hand, and the phone dangling from the cradle.

He snatched it up, "Who's this?"

"Someone who knows who you are and what you've done." The Irish lilt raised all the hairs on Green's arms. "Prepare to burn in hell Green."

Slamming the receiver down Green glared at Mrs. Hughes body before leaving the restaurant.

* * *

Hotel Esplanade

Anna accepted the flowers from the woman as Bricker thanked her. "They're beautiful Ms. Denker. The whole room looks like a slice of heaven just for my Jane."

"It's always a pleasure to serve." She curtsied to them before leaving the room.

Anna arranged the flowers a moment before nodding toward the water closet. "I just need a moment to freshen up."

"Not to long," Bricker warned, "Major Barrow'll be here soon and it'll start."

"I wouldn't miss it." Anna smiled back, ducking into the restroom.

She lowered the toilet seat carefully and set her foot on it. Placing the flowers upright as carefully as she could in the sink, Anna pulled her dress up her leg to reveal the holster there. The pistol pressed to the inside of her thigh as she drew it out and positioned it in her bouquet.

It took a moment but soon the barrel fit snugly between the flowers and her finger rested just above the trigger. Anna switched legs to check her other side, adjusting the strap for her additional magazines, and pulled her dress back to the floor. With a twist in the mirror she smiled at her reflection.

"We who are about to die."

Opening the door Anna smiled at her father as he nodded at her, "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

They entered the room and Anna surveyed the crowd. Faces that beamed at her, voices that wished her congratulations in hushed whispers, and the ever-present chatter. All from people who recognized her face but whom she would never know.

Anna ran the scenario through in her mind as they circled toward the rear of the room. She would reach the front and as her father passed her to Barrow she would bring her flowers around as if to hand them off. But instead of giving over her flowers, she would leave the first bullet in her father's chest.

He would stumble back and she could use the moment of shock to her advantage. Barrow, with his smug grin and broken arm would get the next bullet between the eyes, and fall. The last shot, perhaps more difficult given distance and the reactions of the increased security, would be Crowborough.

With a shift of her grip on the handle of her gun she noted his relative distance from the priest and Barrow. Even with the small gun she could hit it. Then the security would respond. If she were fast enough she might manage to get herself before they could.

Death before dishonor.

* * *

John eased into his seat, watching Anna go around the far side of the room on Bricker's arm. He noted her hand on her flowers, the other holding Bricker's arm, and smiled to himself as he thought about where those hands had been only a day ago. His gaze flicked to Major Barrow and the grin stretched ever-so-slightly at the knowledge the Major was none the wiser.

A hand came down on his shoulder and John shifted to see Green. "Can I help you?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I've an invitation," John pulled it from his pocket, "That says I'm part of the Major's honor guard."

"And how'd you get that?"

"He gave it to me yesterday." John rolled his shoulders back, sliding the invitation back into his pocket. "We met on the train from Prague and made ourselves rather chummy. Like you have with whatever side you're serving now."

"You think it's that easy?"

"We're both here now aren't we?"

"I think you should leave." Green pulled at John's shoulder and he stood. "In fact, I think I should give you a guard out of here."

"I wonder," John narrowed his eyes at Green, "What did a resistance fighter have to gain, sending my friend and I to manage three assassins. Then I found out, he was a traitor and a spy all along. He betrayed them, or tried to, through me. Imagine how that makes someone feel."

"Imagine how this," Green held up his hand, "Makes someone feel."

"Must make it easier to scratch the asses you kiss."

Green snarled and practically threw John to soldiers. "Get him downstairs and out of the way. I don't want anything interfering with this wedding."

As the men dragged John away his eyes caught sight of Anna. She turned to him, giving the slightest of nods, and looked forward away. John took a deep breath and followed the urging of his two guides out of the room.

* * *

Anna started up the aisle, the hum of Mendelsohn just an annoying buzz in her ears, and counted her steps. With John gone she did not have to worry about him jumping to her rescue. Everything would go according to her plan and he would be safe. He would get away.

They reached the end of the aisle and Barrow extended his good hand. Anna shifted the bouquet, careful of her grip, and brought it even with Bricker's chest. The heartbeat that passed signaled the end.

But en explosion rocked the room. Everyone fell and those who did not tumble in the initial blast joined their friends on the floor when the next explosion ripped through the room. The ice sculptures in the corners rocked and crashed to the floor, sending shards of ice flying everywhere, accompanied by the screams of terrified guests.

Anna kept a tight hold on her bouquet, pulling it close as Bricker cowered to the side and scrambled for safety in the room where she prepared for the wedding. She went to aim after him but ducked under her arms the next moment when a hail of gunfire ripped through the room. Between her arms she peeked and saw Branson, machine gun steady in his hands, laying down a sweep over the room.

Security and soldiers fell before they could raise their guns and Anna brought her bouquet around. Barrow cowered behind the podium and Bricker already took cover but Crowborough still staggered for a place to hide. She pulled the hammer back and let three shots fly into his unprotected, undefended, body. The first struck him in the neck and the other two near the heart. He clutched at both areas before falling back into a table, flipping the silverware and decorations over himself as he hit the floor.

The machine gun continued and Anna ducked back behind the podium as well, throwing the flowers off her gun and bringing it around to take out three of the nearest soldiers before her gun jammed. She struggled to pull back the slide as hands grabbed at her. Anna flailed with her knees and looked up to see Barrow, face wrenched into a snarl, as he fought her for the gun.

"Who are you?"

"Kurt's friend."

They wrestled over the floor, Anna trying to tip the gun toward him. But even with one arm in a sling, Barrow's weight pressing her to the floor, the barrel moved ever closer to her. She twisted under him, aiming the gun away, and let the last bullet fly from the magazine.

A thunderous crash of the large chandelier distracted Barrow long enough for Anna to tip the barrel toward his face. The hot metal burned him, knocking him back long enough for her to kick out. She caught him in the injured arm and he flailed away.

The chandelier's lights cracked on impact and sparks caught on the tablecloths of the tables crushed under its significant weight. Anna noted Branson through the flickering flames as she hiked up her dress enough to grab her spare magazines. She let the used one fall, slamming another in its place, and aimed for the remaining soldiers cowering behind tipped tables near her.

They never saw her coming. Distracted as they were by the never-ending rapid fire from Branson's position, Anna aimed carefully and used her magazine to clear her side of the room. She worked toward Branson's position, ignoring the screamers trying to run for cover and crowding the lift, and discarded her small gun when the last empty magazine ejected from the chamber.

One of the soldiers near her tried to raise his rifle but Anna pistol-whipped him and stole the weapon. Crouching for cover, she used the side of the table to pick her targets carefully on the other side of the room. But her rifle soon emptied and Anna abandoned it to make a run for Branson's position.

She landed next to him and Branson ducked for cover as a spray of bullets lodged themselves over the half-wall where they cowered. "I thought you were dead."

"Same." Anna smiled at him, taking the gun he handed her and drawing back to put a bullet in the chamber. "I guess we're indestructible."

"Or just too stubborn to die." Branson loaded a new canister and pulled it up to the side.

Anna brought her gun around as well but then put a hand on Branson's arm. "He's with me."

"He's the one who shot me."

"Simple mistake." John joined them, holding a pistol in each hand. "I thought you were the enemy."

"You are the enemy far as I'm concerned."

"He's not." Anna reached around Branson to take out a soldier endeavoring to make it around the edge of the room toward them. "He's here to help."

Branson nodded toward the lift, "Then he wasn't just below getting cozy with our friend Green."

"Our friend Green is really our enemy Green." John sat up and fired off four shots before ducking low again. "He's the one who hired me to kill you."

"How ambitious of him." Branson ground his teeth, letting his machine gun speak when he tipped to the floor to fire at the shapes moving behind the fire spreading over the room. "But we've got bigger problems."

"Bigger than the security Green's amassing on the ground floor to bring up in an assault using those back stairs?" Anna shrugged when both men looked at her, "I count exits too."

"We're still missing Bricker."

"He's hiding in the preparation room." Anna cocked her gun, "I'll get him."

"I'll come with you." John went to move and Anna shook her head, "I don't need help."

"It's not for you," He shrugged, "It's for me."

They turned to Branson and he shrugged, "I'll hold them off then."

Anna and John counted three and then darted to the side of the room, running for the door where Bricker barricaded himself.

* * *

Branson pulled the hammer back and waited. No sound came from the back stairs and he edged to the corner. When he peeked his face around he quickly flung back as a barrage of fire echoed.

"You've put up a good fight Branson." Green's voice called to him from the stairwell and Branson bit down. "But it's time to give up. Call it a day."

"Like you did?" Branson let off his own fire before crouching to avoid the splinters and debris raining over his head from the bullets piercing wood over him. "I heard you over the phone, shooting Mr. Carson."

"I thought I recognized your voice." Green's echoed as Branson tried to reload his machine gun but it jammed. "I wondered how you'd survived when the Pistol told me you were dead."

"I wondered how you afforded the Belfast Pistol." Branson tossed the gun away and reached for a rifle. "Being a double agent can't make you that well off."

"It's better than you think."

"Nothing's worth giving up on your cause." Branson checked the chamber, standing slowly as he slid his back up the wall. "But I guess your cause has always been yourself."

"Better to live."

"Not the life you have. No thanks." Branson swung around the side of the wall and grunted as Green drove a knife between his ribs. "Bastard."

"Truer than you know." He twisted the knife and Branson fell back, holding his side and dropping the gun. "Now, where's the Pistol?"

"I told you," Branson chuckled, coughing against the spasms in his chest. "Burn in hell."

Green frowned and then jumped clear as the back stairway behind him blew. Branson smiled to himself, head hitting the floor. The last sound he made was a whisper of a name.

"Sybil."

* * *

Anna held the gun tight to her shoulder and aimed for the lock on the door. It blew off and she and John spun to the side as bullets came through the wood. When all she could hear was the click of an empty chamber she used the barrel of the gun to open the doors.

Bricker crawled to the back, dropping the empty gun and holding up his hands as he cowered by the back wall. "Please, please Jane. Don't do this. I'm your father."

"That's true." Anna pulled the rifle up, "You are my father but I'm not Jane."

"What?"

"You shot Jane in the street while I watched." Anna swallowed, "I'm Anna."

"Anna?" He gaped at her, "No, you're dead. I buried you with Vera."

"You never buried me." Anna aimed, "But I'm going to bury you."

Her finger trembled on the trigger and she had Bricker in her sights but she could not pull it. Time stopped and she saw Bricker pull at knife within reach. Before he could bring it up a shot cracked and Bricker fell back to the floor.

Anna turned to see John holstering his gun. "Thought I might be doing you a favor if I saved you the sin of patricide."

"Thank you." Anna managed, dropping the rifle to the floor. "We can leave now."

They left the room, John grabbing Anna and forcing her behind a table as shots came toward them. He peeked around the edge and Anna waited for him to explain the scowl that took over his face. "Green's over there."

"What about Branson?" John shook his head and Anna nodded, "We need to get to the lift."

They ducked, John keeping his hand on Anna, and ran for the lift. Her hands scrabbled over the buttons as John ripped a coat off a fallen soldier and wrapped it over her. She turned, confusion furrowing her brow and John shrugged. "So they think I rescued you."

As the doors opened someone grabbed at John, howling with the motion, and John wrapped his arm around the exposed neck to drag them into the lift with them. The doors closed and Anna pressed herself back to the wall as John and the man grappling with him punched at one another. But all it took was an elbow to the man's throat for John to gain the upper hand.

The man fell to his knees, his one good hand grabbing at his trachea as he choked and John drew a gun on him. Anna stopped him, "We use him as our shield."

"What?"

"Take us hostage and we'll get away." Anna took a deep breath, looking at Barrow. "We'll go to the restaurant and get out that way. But we need him to do it."

"Fine," John wrenched Barrow to stand, shoving the barrel of his gun into the man's side. "But if he says one word, I'll shoot him."


	17. Where Else?

John held Barrow close, gun pressed to the man's ribs as Anna cowered in the borrowed coat. They all held their breath as the doors opened. But the chaos of the main floor provided the cover they needed to make their way toward the front doors.

With a firm grip on Barrow's neck with one hand and the gun digging a rut in his ribs with the other, John steered the trio. Anna clung to Barrow's broken arm, the coat John stole for her almost swallowing her tiny frame whole, and tried to balance the look of terror on her face with something more substantial. It was all John could do to keep his own cool as the noise of the room surrounded them.

They made it to the doors and, for a bright moment, John thought he might actually get through them. A shout from the stairs alerted them and the trio turned to see Green coming toward them. He looked the worse for wear, having jumped the remains of destroyed staircases and survived the smoking second floor, but his voice still cut through the cacophony of distress.

Soldiers near John and Anna turned to stop them but with hotel guests, workers, and visitors still streaming for the exits all they could do was helplessly shout for order. John pressed toward Anna with Barrow's body and she took the cue to ride the flow of evacuees into the street. For a moment John's eyes met Greens across the room before the turning glass door distorted it.

But the street was not the salvation they planned. Here people dispersed with the rapidity of desserts at a social function so they could no longer hide in the huddled masses. Instead John and Anna struggled to steer Barrow between them across the street to take shelter between parked cars as soldiers moved on their position.

Turning to Anna, John nodded at Barrow. "Not sure he'll be enough to act as our shield but he'll do for the moment."

"For how long?" Anna hissed, leaning just enough over Barrow to nod with her head toward the buildings around them. "They'll get shooters up there and I've gone toe-to-toe with a few snipers in the this party and they're good."

"You could both give up now," Barrow wheezed out a chuckle, "Maybe they'll shoot you quickly."

"Shut up." John batted his elbow toward Barrow, catching the man on the nose and letting a stream of blood flow. His head went back, hands struggling to cover his nose as Anna and John kept a tight grip on him so he could not move. Anna tipped his head forward and turned to John.

"We can't stay here."

"We've nowhere else to go."

Shouting had them both turning up their heads to see soldiers running toward their position, Green in the lead. John tightened his grip on the pistol in his hand and urged Anna to take the other. She placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

"For luck."

John went to say something when the screech of tires and screams drew their attention. Both jumped as a car pulled to a stop before them and raised their pistols. But the when the door opened Talbot winked at them from the driver's side.

"I thought you could use a bit of help."

John smiled and lifted Barrow from the ground as Anna opened the door. They shoved Barrow inside and Anna followed, keeping a gun on him as John traded his pistol for the machine gun on the seat next to Talbot. Talbot craned back over the seat and shrugged.

"Interesting choice, to get the girl and her fiancé."

"Turn the car around." John waved Talbot off and pulled the machine gun to his shoulder. "Come back for me on your next pass."

"Right." Talbot looked at the two in the backseat through his mirror, "Hold on."

The tires spun a moment before catching and Talbot reversed away from the crowd as John raised the machine gun to lay a spray into the approaching soldiers. They ducked for cover, Green leaping behind a stopped trolley, and the few still caught in the open fell with injuries. John turned, firing at those clustering on either side of the street trying to flank him.

Someone cried out his name and he sidestepped enough to catch the side of the car and get his feet on the running board. He kept the gun up, keeping their path clear, and did not get into the car until they turned down another street. The hot gun steamed slightly on the seat and John directed his next comment at Talbot.

"Where to?"

"We're too hot for a train station and I haven't enough petrol to get us anywhere else." Talbot skidded around a corner, "We're well and truly buggered in this one John."

"The restaurant." Anna leaned up from the backseat, pushing Barrow to the side, "They've got a secret exit in the basement. We can use that to escape."

"It's out best chance." John reasoned and Talbot finagled his way onto a road to lead them there.

"It's our only chance John. Let's not get any ideas about us having an opportunity to debate anything here."

"I hope you're not complaining about the position I've put you in." John put a hand to the dash to hold himself in place when they managed another corner on what he would swear was two wheels. "I left you on the train to find a better life."

"Like I could leave my nearest and dearest friend?"

"Now who's stretching the reality of the situation?" John mused, reloading the machine gun before the canisters slipped all over the floor. "I'm your only friend."

"I'll count the girl back there." Talbot winked at Anna, "No hard feelings about hoping John would kill you the other day."

"It's all part of the job so I can't be too sore about it." Anna pointed, "There's a shortcut through that alley."

They pulled to a smoking halt by the front of the restaurant and John took the lead. He opened the back door and helped Anna manage Barrow inside as Talbot snatched a cigarette from a passing kid. With a wink he dragged it a bit before throwing it into the interior of the car.

John held the door open for him before locking the bolts to leave the restaurant slightly less open to the public. He nodded toward the car, turning to Talbot. "How long until it blows?"

"Long enough. There's a bottle of brandy in the back of that car that should help it go up in about twenty minutes."

"Not sure we've that kind of time but I'm not opposed to a distraction." John faced Anna, holding a gun to Barrow's head. "Where's the other entrance?"

"In the back."

John took the gun from her hand and nodded at Talbot, now managing the machine gun from the car. "Show him please?"

They disappeared to the back of the restaurant and John noticed the body on the floor by the bar. He kept the gun trained on Barrow and stepped toward it, heaving a sigh when he noticed the large man who drove the truck a few days earlier. A gasp from the rear had him calling out.

"What is it?"

"Mrs. Hughes." John frowned as Anna returned, pointing to the back room. "It's our contact. The woman who owns this place."

"I'm sorry."

"Not as sorry as I am." Anna pointed to the front window. "I thought it'd take them longer to find us."

John looked over his shoulder and sighed. "I guess we didn't have as good of a plan as we thought we might."

Anna narrowed her eyes a moment before gesturing to the car in the street. "Did your friend say that he left a bottle of brandy in there to help it burn?"

"He did, why?" Anna just pointed over John's shoulder and he smiled as he turned to see the bottles of alcohol lining the back wall. "I think I like your plan."

"I'll pour them over this place and then we burn it. They can't get in if it's on fire."

"Between the car and here we'll have a good defense system I think." John paused, "Is there a backdoor?"

"Your friend-"

"Henry."

"Right, Henry and I blocked it and the back windows." Anna ducked under the bar, taking bottles in her hands and throwing them around the room. Most of them crashed, leaking onto the floor between the wooden tables and chairs. She tried to aim to cover the room before picking up the last bottle. "Seems a waste to just let it drain over the floor."

"Doesn't it just?" Talbot joined them, setting his gun down, "I've got it opened below so just say the word and we're gone."

"I-" John raised his gun, as did the other two as someone knocked on the door. He held up his hand to stop them, stepping toward the door himself. Leaning around the wall he saw Green standing just outside and resisted the urge to shoot him through the glass.

"Who is it?" Talbot hissed and John shrugged.

"Green."

"Shoot him and let's be done with it." Talbot consulted his watch. "The car's about ready to blow."

"We know you're in there." Everyone faced the door as Green's voice echoed hollowly through it.

"What do you want?" John called back, shaking his head when Anna went to respond.

"We know you've got Ms. Bricker and Major Barrow in your custody and we're willing to offer your freedom if you let them go."

John raised an eyebrow and went around to the door. He unlocked it and stepped carefully, keeping the door as his shield, to see Green. They faced one another and Green could only snort.

"What is this?"

"What is what?"

"I hired you to help me and instead you turn on me." Green opened his hands, "Did someone pay you more than I did?"

"No." John let his mouth twitch upward into a smile. "I'm not a whore like you."

"Then what's got you joining this mistaken crusade?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

"Right or not you'll die for this." Green pointed toward the inside of the restaurant and John's eyes flicked for a moment toward the flickering interior of the car. "Give us Ms. Bricker and Major Barrow and maybe they'll just shoot you."

"Funny, that's what Major Barrow said." John gathered his breath, "We'll give you Ms. Bricker first and then, in ten minutes, we'll give you Major Barrow."

"Why the delay?" Green shrugged, "Why not both now?"

"So I know you'll actually live up to at least that part of your word." John shut the door, locking it again, and went back to where Anna and Talbot waited with a silent Barrow.

"What'd he want?" Talbot checked his watch again and John puffed out a breath.

"They want us to give up Ms. Bricker and Major Barrow." John faced Anna, "They think you're your sister."

"I'm not going out there."

"It's our only play Anna." John opened his arm toward the restaurant. "We let you go with them and they're distracted. It gives us the time we need to get away."

"Green'll know it's me in a heartbeat."

"Then don't look at him. Don't acknowledge him." John held up the discarded coat. "Hold this close and act terrified. Be your sister until you're away."

"And then what?"

John shot Talbot a look and he grabbed Barrow, dragging the other man to the far side of the room. When they were out of earshot he swallowed, "To get to Ireland."

"Why Ireland?"

"Because I need you to tell my mother what happened to me." John shook his head, "We both know that we're not all surviving this."

"Then let me die here, with you, finishing what we started." Anna grasped John's hands. "Please give me that."

"I'd like nothing more than to give you that Anna but we need them to let us get a head start." John smiled, "Who knows, we might even get away."

"You're lying."

"But I hope I'm not." John kissed her knuckles, "If I live then I'll come find you. And after all this is over we'll go back to that café in Prague and we'll meet again."

"Without all this hanging over our heads."

"We'll really be a married couple just having breakfast and coffee." John brought Anna to the door, draping the coat over her shoulders. "Don't look at him. Just walk and go back to Bricker's house. Take what you need, wait two days, and then leave. Don't look back."

Anna nodded and kissed him quickly before John pulled the bolts back on the door. Green widened his eyes in surprise, putting his arms around Anna as John spun her out the door. Before Green could say anything John shut the door.

Each closed bolt was a knife through his soul but he walked back to where Talbot and Barrow waited. Barrow, his face cracking with drying blood, sneered at John. "I guess you've lost."

"What did I say?"

"Oh," Barrow feigned submission, "You said you'd shoot me if I spoke again."

"That's right." John fired his bullet between Barrow's eyes and stepped to the side as he fell to the floor of the restaurant.

"Another minute." Talbot nodded to the window and John noticed the soldiers all shouting around the car. "I say we blow this place as well."

John grabbed the bottle from the counter and tipped it onto the floor as he followed Talbot into the back room. The trail ended just before a trap door and John tossed the bottle away before opening his hand toward Talbot. Talbot handed over a struck match and John breathed out before throwing it onto the trail of alcohol.

As he did an explosion came from the front of the restaurant and John knocked the support to close the trap door.

* * *

Green ducked behind a car as the car in the street broke all the glass in the vicinity with the force of the explosion. He craned his head over the bonnet and noted flames licking the inside of the restaurant. Grabbing a soldier nearest him he wrenched the man's collar. "Is there another way out of that place?"

"I don't know."

"Then find someone who does." Green tossed him away and ran a hand through his hair. "They're not that kind of martyr."

* * *

John ducked the small tunnels and tried to keep his sense of direction. Talbot, at his side, kept his machine gun up while their footsteps squelched and splashed over the path before them. He gagged and John laughed.

"Is this what you imagined when you joined up with me after the war?"

"I thought we'd be lying back on a sandy beach or living like kings in some expensive place by now." Talbot followed John down a turn. "You know, somewhere like Paris or Rome or even Belfast."

"I guess that came with the name." John stopped below a grate. "I think this is the exit."

"Since all the other tunnels are only large enough for children I don't think we've got another choice." Talbot shrugged, "Me first?"

"Henry," John put a hand on his shoulder, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For coming back. You didn't have to."

"But I did." Talbot shrugged, "You are the only friend I've got and I didn't want to lose you without a fight."

"That means the world to me."

"I should hope so." Talbot ascended, "Besides, where else would I be?"

John waited for Talbot to take a few rungs over his head before he started up the ladder himself. Talbot struggled to shove the metal cover out of the way so John joined him. It took a moment of twisting between the two of them to not only get in place but to also lift the cover.

Snorting, Talbot climbed out of the hole. John put his hands on the rim and pulled himself over the edge to join him. As he stood a shot rang out and John ducked. It only took a moment to verify that no pain went through his body and John turned to Talbot.

Talbot tried to smile but a blossom of red overtook his shirt. He went to his knees and John went to help him but a barrage of bullet fire echoed about him. Jumping to the side, John took cover behind a car and drew out his guns.

From the street Talbot raised his machine gun with herculean effort and let it fire toward a group of soldiers coming toward them. A moment later his body twitched and danced as bullets riddled him and Talbot fell to the side. His head lolled back and his hand dropped from his gun.

John worked around the car, holding up one gun, and sniped a coming soldier. He fell forward and John used his next shot to take out the man next to him, distracted by the tumble of his fellow. The last bullets in his gun went to those across the street before he snatched a rifle from the man nearest him.

Cocking back, John aimed for those taking cover on the other side of the street. Most ducked in time but John used the moment to rush the center, dragging Talbot's body from the road. They took cover behind the car again and John held Talbot's head in his lap.

"Henry? Henry can you hear me?"

"I'm going to wait for you on a beautiful beach." Talbot gasped, his cough bringing up blood. "It'll be much nicer than any of the dumps you ever took me."

"Henry, hang on. We're getting out of this. We always do."

"So optimistic." Talbot struggled to laugh but it wheezed and choked in his chest. "Just tell me you won't lose that girl. She was hard enough for you to get the first time."

"I won't."

"Good." Talbot smiled, his eyes closing. "A real beach John."

"Henry." John bit into the back of his hand as Talbot's body stiffened and then slackened in his arms.

Choking back his own sobs, John took Talbot's machine gun and pumped it before letting the contents spray over the far side of the street. It clicked empty twice before John tossed it away to grab the rifle. That too emptied long before John realized and took his position back behind the car.

When he went to draw his last pistol a fist came down on the side of his jaw and John stumbled to the side. He held his hand there, noting Green approaching with raised fists. "Come for your own licks?"

"You've almost ruined everything for me." Green swiped but John knocked the fist away. "You and you're surprising morals."

"What surprises me is that you've none at all." John dodged a swing and laid his own series. Two to Green's gut and one hard enough to crack the jaw. Green fell into the wall and John smiled, "You're nothing but a snake."

"I'm a survivor."

"You're a coward and a disgrace."

Green snorted and drew his gun. John ducked, reaching for his own, but a shot caught him in the side. He fell into a cart, fingers wrapping over the handle of his gun, and brought it up to let a shot lodge itself in Green's shoulder. The other man took a step back and John fired again.

This one got Green in the thigh and he tripped into the car. John smiled, trying to fire again until he realized his gun was empty. He dropped the gun, ignoring the pain burning through him, and launched himself at Green.

The impact reminded John of playing rugby as a boy. Elbows and fists cracked on pavement and sank into soft tissue while they rolled, each seeking for advantage. Finally, John gained a position on Green's chest and went to strike down when he grunted.

Looking down he saw the knife lodged in his stomach. He fell back, catching himself on his elbows and with shaking fingers toughed the implement. John turned his face toward Green and struggled to stand. He stumbled first into the wall, closing his eyes against the pain, and pulled the knife out. With a gasp he clutched it in a bloody fist and moved toward Green.

The gunshots were almost hollow, like sounds from a story or another world, and John caught Green around the shoulders. He met the man's eyes, jaw trembling, and sank the knife into the other man's chest right above his heart. As Green flailed backward John slumped to the ground.

He blinked, trying to breathe, and let his eyes finally closed. "Anna."

* * *

Belfast Ireland, December 1933

Anna raised her fist and rapped her knuckles against the door. It opened to reveal an old woman with gray hair tied back into a neat bun. She frowned and peeked a little farther outside her door. "Not sure I was expecting visitors."

"I wouldn't have thought so but I've brought a message from your son, Mrs. Bates." Anna gathered her breath, holding her coat closer with one hand in the biting wind. "He told me to tell you how he died."

The old woman put a hand over her mouth. "John's dead?"

"I believe he is, Mrs. Bates." Anna swallowed, "And that's not all the news I've got for you."

"It can't get worse than that."

"It's not worse." Anna soothed, letting her coat fall open to reveal the baby in the crook of her other arm. "This is his son."

Mrs. Bates gaped at her before stepping back, "I think you've got quite a bit more of that story to tell me miss."

"Yes, I do believe I do."


	18. The World on Trial

Belfast, Ireland 1945

"John Bates I'll not tell you again." Anna called over her shoulder, walking toward the door, "Get your shoes or you'll be late."

She opened the door and frowned at the sight of a gray-haired man and the two women with him. The women on his left looked young enough to be his daughter, with severe cheekbones and a calculating stare, while the one on his right leaned on her cane with a distinctive scrunch to her nose as if she never liked what she smelled. "Can I help you?"

"I believe it's you who'll help us, Ms. Smith." The man in the center pointed toward the interior of the room. "May we come in?"

Anna frowned a moment, pointing to the man in the middle. "I know you, don't I? We've met somewhere before."

"Prague, nineteen-thirty-three."

Anna smiled, "Why Mr. Crawley, it's good to see you survived the war."

"War's not over yet." Mr. Crawley smiled, "Could we discuss this inside?"

Stepping back Anna allowed them into the house, showing them to the parlor as a dark haired body practically tumbled down the stairs. He snatched a satchel from the table, kissed Anna's cheek briefly, and sprinted out the open door. Anna shook her head, closing the door behind him to turn to her three guests standing awkwardly in the parlor.

"Please sit, I won't have anyone standing on ceremony in this house." Anna took her own seat as the old woman insisted on only sharing the sofa with the other woman and Mr. Crawley was forced to a tiny stool. "How can I help?"

"You've already helped us a great deal, Ms. Smith, and we wish we could've thanked you more for your work twelve years ago."

"If only the cost hadn't been so high." Anna took a deep breath, "I do hope you found the families of Mr. Moseley and Mr. Branson, to tell them about their sons' heroism."

"We did and they were grateful." Mr. Crawley rubbed over his hands, "Though gratitude is hardly payment for the cost of a life."

"But it is something, Mr. Crawley." Anna laughed, "I apologize, living with an eleven-year-old has robbed me of my manners, and I don't know the names of the rest of your party."

"I'm Mrs. Crawley." The old woman wrangled with the stick in her hand. "I'm one of the ones who conspired to hire you in the first place."

"With a Mrs. Isobel Crawley, yes, I remember." Anna nodded at her, "I guess I should thank you for the trust you placed in my skills."

"You didn't use the ones we hired you for but you did get the job done with more flair than we anticipated."

"At high cost." Anna interlaced her fingers, "Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson lost their lives, along with my sister."

"It's never easy to acknowledge but we all lose something in war." The other woman finally spoke, "I lost my husband to the Nazis and while I understand the logic behind his decision to serve King and country I still find it hard to tell my son why his father can no longer kiss him goodnight."

"At least your son met his father." Anna raised a hand to stop the arguments, "It's not a comment on your grief, madam, as that's private and of concern to you. It's more a comment on the small victories we're still left to hold in the reality of the ashes around us."

"Quite the philosopher are you?"

Anna smiled, "I've had a bit of time to think about things."

"We'd like to ask you if you're willing to contribute to a bit of action now." Mr. Crawley steered the conversation again and Anna shifted in her chair. "We need someone with your talents to help us again."

"I've not picked up a gun since my mother-in-law died."

Mr. Crawley frowned, "I wasn't aware that you were married, I do apologize."

I'm not married."

"Widowed?"

"Not in the traditional sense." Anna sighed, "The father of my child, and the child of my deceased mother-in-law, God rest her soul, was John Bates."

"John Bates?" Mr. Crawley choked, "The Belfast Pistol?"

"The very same." Anna opened her hand, "But I interrupted you, what were you asking?"

"If you were still as good a shot as you were before the war." The younger woman shook her head, "I personally think you've lost your touch but my father says one doesn't just lose those instincts."

"I'm sorry, what is your name?"

"Mary Crawley."

"Well, Mrs. Crawley," Anna stood, "I guess we'll see."

Anna led the trio to the back garden and retrieved her gun from the shed. She checked it, loading four bullets, and cocked it before turning to Mary. "Would you be willing to be the subject of the experiment?"

"Depends on the experiment." Mary smiled, "What'd you have in mind, Ms. Smith?"

"Put an apple on your head and stand at the far end of the garden." Anna went back into the house, taking position behind the sofa in the parlor while Mary held an apple on her head.

"I don't think she-" Mary's words died in her mouth as the apple burst into pieces on her head.

No one spoke until Anna joined them again. "I guess Mr. Crawley was right, the instinct never dies."

Mr. Crawley clapped his hands together. "Then I think it's time we tell you what we've got in mind."

"Best to do so now." Anna stood on tiptoe and brushed a piece of apple from Mary's head. "What is it you need me to do?"

"I'm sure you're aware that there are Nazis escaping Germany. Those guilty of horrible crimes who are slinking away before anyone can catch them."

"It's the way with rats."

"We mean for you to help us with a bit of extermination."

Mrs. Crawley ground her cane into the grass a bit. "We need someone to join our little hit squad to find these traitors escaping trial and execute them before they leave the country."

"I do hope this time you're not going to have another traitor in your midst." Anna rested her rifle against the wall. "I don't want to be looking over my shoulder again."

"You'll be looking over your shoulder because they've still got friends, people who want them to escape." Mary folded her arms over her chest, "We'll be hunted ever step of the way but we'll just have to be faster than they are. Better than they are."

"More determined too, I'm guessing." Anna took a deep breath, "You're asking us to act as agents of a greater good?"

"Whether or not it's a greater good doesn't bother me." Mrs. Crawley snorted, "We just need these men taken from the earth so they don't have a chance to regroup and let this happen again."

"What about those who only want unification?" Anna shrugged, "We'll be doing battle with those tired of war and death."

"We'll be death." Mary smiled, "Our little hit squad is the Grim Reaper, Ms. Smith. That's all that'll matter. We'll be invisible until the last moment."

"That's what I was told about my last little foray into this business and yet…"

"We've got an ace up our sleeve this time."

"What?"

Mary smiled, "You'll see."

* * *

Nuremberg Trials, 1946

Spratt gathered his papers and stood, "We'd like to address the court in relation to the accusations made against the Chief of Police in Berlin, Alexander Green."

"The defendant will rise." The judge nodded toward the man at the other table and Spratt gave him the side eye.

Green, dressed impeccably in a suave suit, stood. He buttoned his jacket, bowing his head toward the judge, and rolled his shoulders back. Tittering in the gallery had the judge banging his gavel against his seat.

"We will have order here." The judge looked at Spratt, "Please proceed."

"Based on witness testimony we can confirm that Mr. Green served as a willing agent of the Nazi party from nineteen-nineteen until their party fell just last year. He served as an informant for them in the resistance group of Mrs. Isobel Crawley, located in Nice, France until nineteen-forty-one. They discovered him as a traitor in nineteen-thirty-three and he fled to Berlin where he betrayed fellow comrades resulting in the death of Mrs. Elsie Hughes, Mr. Charles Carson, Mr. Henry Talbot, Ms. Anna Smith, Mr. Tom Branson, and Mr. Joseph Moseley in that same year."

"What else?"

"Over his service as a member of the SS we discovered further evidence of his aid in the construction and implementation of various torture techniques at concentration camps." Spratt turned to Green, who only raised an eyebrow. "We've requested the maximum sentence be enacted on him for not only betraying his country but also leading to the deaths of hundreds by his personal involvement."

"Mr. Green," The judge faced him, "How do you plead?"

"Not guilty." Green did not move as the gallery filled with shouts and yells at his announcement. "There's nothing I've done that hasn't been in service to my country and I defy anyone who says otherwise."

"We'll bring forward the witness then." Spratt left the table and walked into the side hall off the courtroom.

He opened the door to his office and stopped in the doorway. Ms. Denker's body lay on the floor, face purple and fingers clutching at a garrote wrapped around her neck. Spratt grabbed the aide next to him and rattled the man through his grip on the man's lapels.

"Who else got into this room? Who?"

"No one that I saw sir?"

"Where's the man who was guarding the door?" Spratt shoved the man away, looking down the hall as the other man tried to answer the question. "Where?"

"I don't know sir."

Spratt closed his eyes, hanging his head as he tried to even his breathing. "She was all we had."

* * *

Green tried to keep his face impassive as the prosecution entered the room again. He stood at the judge's order and kept his focus on him when he spoke. "Councilor, I thought you were producing a witness."

"I would your honor, but she's been strangled in my office."

"Strangled?"

"Yes, your honor." The prosecutor shot Green a scathing look. "Someone's killed her to prevent her testimony."

"Murderer!" Something hit Green in the side of the head and he stumbled into his lawyer.

The judge's gavel banged as Green righted himself. But Green ignored him, climbing onto the table while unbuttoning his jacket and shirt. He opened both and took a turn on the table, showing off the shining white scars there.

"These," He pointed to two in his side, "I earned in nineteen-nineteen trying to killed General Crowborough."

Green held up his hand, the finger now leather where it once was metal. "The same year I received this when they shot my finger clean off my hand."

His fingers went to a bullet wound in his shoulder. "I got this one from a hitman in nineteen-thirty-three. The same man who gave me this," He caressed the scar just above his heart. "I almost died in that street as I stopped him."

Green faced the room as it quieted, "I've lost blood, limb, and almost life in the service of my country. Time and again I put myself to the hazard and came through by the grace of God. I'll suffer no one to impugn my honor or claim I'm a traitor when I've done nothing but serve my country."

"Mr. Green, please sit."

"I apologize your honor." Green climbed off the table, buttoning his shirt and tucking it back in as the judge addressed the room.

"It is the ruling of this court, given the lack of substantial evidence against Mr. Green, that we rule him innocent of all charges and release him."

Green smiled to himself as the room went into uproar again. He shook hands with his defense lawyer and walked toward the exit. There he almost collided with the prosecution lawyer, who scowled at him, but Green could only smile.

"Such a shame about your witness."

"She told me you'd rid the world of those who could talk about what you'd done."

"If only you had proof that any of what she told you was true." Green shook his head, "What a difference that would've made."

"I'd watch your step all the same, Mr. Green."

Green narrowed his eyes, "Is that a threat, Councilor?"

"Just a warning." The man sniffed, "I hear there's a hit squad riding the world of those who escape trial. Traitors and the like fall under their knives and bullets."

"Then I'm sure a servant of justice, such as yourself, would find a way to bring individuals like that to answer for their crimes." Green cracked his neck, "It's murder, what they're doing."

"Justice, in the end, is blind Mr. Green. You never know when she'll turn that blind eye on someone serving justice for her in a way that's not always sanctified by the law." The prosecutor bowed his head to him, "Have a good day, Mr. Green."

Green left the courthouse, nodding to the officers milling around him as he exited. They offered to accompany him but Green waved them off. "I've spent too much time cooped up with people. I'll walk myself home and see you all in the morning."

They dropped off, leaving him to walk the streets alone. He kept a leisurely pace, hurried by nothing, and even stopped at a roadside stall to inspect the fruit there. As he stood again, smiling at the vendor girl, something caught in the corner of his eye. Frowning he turned and his jaw almost dropped.

"Jane?"

Farther up the street he saw the short, blond woman. He walked toward her, weaving through the crowd, and kept pace behind her as she entered a back alley. When she turned to a dead end he lost her.

Green frowned and turned to leave the alley when he came face-to-face with another man. The man's hat tipped low and all Green could see was the brim until he lifted his head. All the blood in Green's body ran cold as he recognized James. His face cut with jagged scars and wheezing noise escaped when he breathed but it was James.

"How are you here?" Green breathed, backing up into someone else and jumping when he saw Jane. "What are you doing with him?"

"Mrs. Crawley found him and they saved his life." She went to James's side as he started to sign something with his hands. "He says that you left him for dead but he survived because he had a job to do."

"What?"

Jane faced Green, "His job was to kill the traitor and silence the spy."

"I didn't-" Green's hand went out to grab the wall behind him and he realized he reached the end of the alley. "I only did it to survive."

"You betrayed us and you left us all to die."

"Not all," Green pleaded, holding up his hands, "Not everyone died."

"My sister did," Jane stepped toward him, "You stood by while Simon Bricker shot Jane Bricker in the head and then you disposed of the body."

Green's jaw dropped open, "Captain Smith?"

"It's been some time Captain Green." She stepped back. "You led to Mr. Moseley's death and you shot Branson."

"I was under orders."

"You wanted to save your own ass." Captain Smith turned toward James so he could sign something else. "And now James says it's time to complete the mission he had thirteen years ago."

"Please!" Green spluttered, "I know where the Belfast Pistol is."

Captain Smith paused, "If you tell me a grave then I'll have James shoot you in the kneecaps first so you can scream in pain before we leave you to die."

"He's alive." Green insisted, "They took him to hospital and he's been in a camp ever since."

"What happened when they liberated the camps?"

"It'd be in the records." Green nodded, "He'd survive. He was a strong one."

"Yes he was." Captain Smith took a step back, "Stronger than you anyway."

"Please, I'm not the guilty one you think I am." He swallowed, "I only did what I thought I needed to so I could survive. If I'd known that the Nazis wouldn't win-"

"You'd have been braver?" Captain Smith's voice dropped a bit and Green recognized James signing his response. "You'd have stood taller? You'd not have sold us all to save yourself?"

"Yes." Green looked James in the eyes, "You've no idea how glad I am to see you."

Captain Smith shook her head, "He can't say the same."

Green frowned and then fell back as the echo of a gunshot filled the alley. His fingers went to the blood soaking his shirt, holding his bloody fingers up as another shot echoed and he collapsed against the wall. The wheezing breaths he managed matched those coming from James as he stepped closer and placed the hot barrel against his forehead.

"James?"

There was only darkness.

* * *

General Records, A Few Weeks Later

"This is the last of them." He opened the ledger, "If it's not in here then we'd be better off scouring gravestones."

"Given that most of their victims died in mass graves I do doubt that'll be much more helpful than what we're doing right now." Anna turned the pages of the one she had, drawing her finger down the lines of names. "I don't suppose you've heard anything from Mary."

"She and Mr. Gillingham finished their list and they've already gone back to London." He flipped a page. "Mr. Crawley's going to need us back soon too or else we'll be answering to a different kind of authority."

"Yes, we'd hate to get Mr. Spratt in any trouble considering he's the one who gave us our lists." Anna rubbed at the bridge of her nose, between her eyes, and sighed, "I guess it was all a lie anyway so why would it matter?"

"Not sure I know what you mean."

"Face it Bertie," Anna pushed back from the table, the noise disturbing James, just a few spaces farther down. "We're digging for something that doesn't exist because I believed a man trying to save his ass at the last moment when he knew death was coming for him."

"I know that many people lie to save their hides but some people, when staring down the barrel, will tell the truth."

"The literalness of that condition for him aside," Anna shook her head, "That man wouldn't know how to tell the truth if it only required him to say his shoes were black."

"Then why do I have the records for a John Bates right here?" Bertie tapped the line under his finger and Anna leaned over the table, ignoring the scattered files under her. "I don't think it was all a lie."

"We could find him?"

"I think I can find him." Bertie wrote down the information before nodding at James. "You two need to get back to England before you get caught here."

"I'm not leaving without him again Bertie."

"Anna," He put his hands on her shoulder. "Please trust that I can do this. I'll bring John back to you if he's alive and definitive proof that he is dead if not."

"Don't say that." Anna closed her eyes, "I couldn't bear to lose him twice."

"Then keep praying he's alive and I'll pray you both get back to England safely." Bertie pushed Anna toward James and the door. "Get going before we all get caught and we never get the answers we're looking for."

Anna left with James, heading for the train station. They got their seats, James keeping his hat low and his face toward the window so no one would stare at his scars. Anna's fingers fiddled in her skirt as the train moved and she tried to even her breathing.

She only looked up when two men in suits knocked on the door to their carriage. They opened it before she could respond and took the seats opposite them while opening their wallets to reveal credentials and identification. "Ms. Smith and Mr. Kent, we're Misters Blake and Napier from Naval Intelligence, and we'd like to ask you a few questions regarding your activities here in Germany."

Anna turned to James, who only shrugged. "What would you like to know?"


	19. End of the Line

Naval Intelligence Headquarters, London 1946

He dropped his pencil on the desk and looked at the woman sitting across from him with a look she knew well. "Ms. Smith-"

"I do hope you're not about to patronize me, Mr. Blake." She cracked her neck, "We've been batting this back and forth between us for a few weeks. And since it's almost Christmas could you give us both a miracle and just get to the bottom line of this endless interrogation?"

"I guess we're still not sure you're not really Jane Bricker."

"Not sure I would've gone to all this trouble if I were Jane Bricker." Ms. Smith pointed to the glass in front of her and Mr. Blake opened his hand for her to pour as she pleased. "I took the money left to Jane Bricker because my father, Simon Bricker, thought I was dead when he shot Jane Bricker in the head. That money, by all rights of inheritance, was mine."

"But you still pretended to be Jane Bricker."

"To survive, Mr. Blake." Ms. Smith drank from the glass, "I do hope you're not about to tell me I shouldn't have gone to the effort."

"It's more about the effort we'd like to go through to make sure the German authorities don't want your head for the work you did there."

"Before or after the war?"

"In either scenario." Mr. Blake tapped his pencil on the desk, "You did at as an assassin."

"No one likes the term 'assassin'."

"But you do." Mr. Blake smiled at her, "I've seen it in your face. You liked the work you did and what your labors wrought."

She snorted, laughing at the man seeking a guilty reaction from her. "I wish there was a jury here or a general audience so I could tell all of them that few bear the name as well as me."

"Why do you say that Ms. Smith?"

"Because few truly know what it means to have the weight of the world, the weight of a cause, of the world even on their shoulders."

Mr. Blake sat back, "And you believe you did?"

"I know I did and those I worked with, both times, believed they did." Ms. Smith sighed, closing her eyes to remember the faces of those who worked with her. "We all bore it well."

"And do you bear it well now?"

She traced a gouge in the table, following the grain as it tore in two. Mr. Blake cleared his throat and Anna turned up to face him, "I still believe what we did was the right thing and I'd do it all over again with the same result if I could."

"You'd want the same result?"

"If it meant those we meant to kill died, absolutely." Ms. Smith took a breath, "I'd like to save those we lost in another go-round."

"But otherwise you'd do it all over again, no argument?"

"This time we'd get them all."

Mr. Blake scratched at his cheek, chuckling to himself, "You're not a friend of the Germans plan to unify are you?"

"The Soviets aren't."

"I didn't ask about the Soviets." Mr. Blake leaned over the table, "I asked about you."

Ms. Smith snorted, "At the risk of sounding rude, anyone who fights for unification without seeing justice is served to its fullest is an idiot. Healing only comes when all the poison leaves the system. Whether naturally or by significant effort it makes no difference as long as the poison is expelled. The wound must be cleaned and cauterized, not just sown closed."

"A doctor as well as an assassin, I see."

"I'm just experienced and I'm a sniper."

"I'm sorry I didn't realize you had a preferred title."

She sat back in her chair, "There's a difference in the terminology."

"And I guess you joining Mrs. Crawley's hit squad a kind of catharsis for you."

"It was healing." She took a deep breath, "Are we done?"

"I think we've just about sussed you out, Ms. Smith, yes." Mr. Blake stood and offered her a hand. "There's just some news I think you'd like to hear."

"And what's that?"

"I'll explain on the way." She stood and followed him out of the interrogation room and down a hallway. "It'll be a little hard for you to believe but I'm sure you'll understand why we did what we did."

"Did what?"

They stopped at a lift and Mr. Blake pressed a button before turning to Anna. "We've retrieved Mr. Bates."

Both of her hands went to her mouth as she choked a sob. "He's alive?"

"And relative well, all things considered." The lift doors opened and Mr. Blake allowed her in first. "But that's not all of it."

"Then Mr. Pelham found him?"

"We found Mr. Pelham and helped him find Mr. Bates."

She frowned, "I don't understand, why did you help Mr. Pelham. Who's Mr. Bates to you?"

"He's one of ours." Mr. Blake held up a hand to stop her response, "I know this is hard to believe and I'll do what I can to make it easier to swallow, but Mr. Bates is actually Captain Bates. He and Mr. Talbot were our agents on the continent for the better part of the last twenty years."

"Mr. Bates was a hitman." Ms. Smith shook her head, "He wasn't a Naval officer."

"Not in the technical sense as the work he did was classified but his targets were usually chosen by us." Mr. Blake waited as the lift doors opened, "I believe you first met him in Prague, in nineteen-thirty-three and witnessed him killing a few Russian gangsters."

"Yes."

"That was a hit we sanctioned." Mr. Blake shrugged, "We felt that the best way to get a knowledge of the field was to have someone in the field. Someone everyone considered a free agent. An agent we could use with discretion and still collect valuable intelligence without alerting suspicion. He was our ticket to an underworld that no one else cracked but us."

"So when he went to kill us?"

"That was a case of misleading information, as I'm sure you're aware." Mr. Blake stopped them in the hallway, "And a lack of communication between the two Mrs. Crawleys and our office."

"A mistake you obviously rectified if you found James and I in Berlin." Ms. Smith folded her arms over her chest. "How'd you find Mr. Bates?"

"Your Mr. Pelham led us right to him."

"What happened to him?" Ms. Smith shook her head, "I thought he'd died. I was convinced Green killed him."

"Mr. Green did succeed in leading to the death of Mr. Talbot," Mr. Blake paused, "One of my great sorrows as he was a very good friend of mine."

"He was a good man."

They stood in silence a moment before Mr. Blake collected himself, "But Mr. Bates survived his injuries long enough for those who found Mr. Green to take both to hospital in Berlin."

"And he survived?"

"The Nazis were many things but they did abide by many of the rules of the Geneva Convention and therefore Mr. Bates was not tortured in their care." Mr. Blake shuddered, "Though he suffered plenty."

"How so?"

"He was sent to a labor camp, before the war actually started, and almost executed as a spy. If Mr. Green had his way back then he would've been but instead they chose a labor camp. He later served in a POW camp and participated in no less than twelve escape attempts." Mr. Blake bit at his lip as they reached a door. "On the last attempt he suffered a significant injury."

"What kind of injury?"

"One to the right leg. He contracted gangrene and the flesh went septic quickly. By that time the camp didn't have the resources they needed so when the flesh necrotized there was only one thing they could do."

Ms. Smith nodded, "How far up did they have to cut his leg?"

"Just below the knee." Mr. Blake put out a hand, "I wanted to warn you, before you saw him."

"He's here?"

"That's why we've been vetting you so thoroughly," Mr. Blake swallowed, "We didn't want to risk you being someone trying to get close enough to kill him."

"It'd be a hell of a backstory to work through if I wanted him dead."

"He was our best agent, we had to be sure." Mr. Blake put a hand on the door. "Are you ready to see him Ms. Smith?"

She nodded, "Please."

* * *

John looked up from his pacing, trying to keep his grip natural on his cane as he walked the length of the room, as the door opened. When it did he clutched his cane for support when the vision before his eyes did not seem real. He blinked, forcing himself to try and comprehend what stood before him but he found himself unable to find words.

There she was. Almost unchanged after all these years. A few wrinkles creased at her eyes, around her mouth, and maybe one on her forehead but she glowed like an angel. Her hair still shone in the light, her eyes still held a twinkle, and the gasp to her voice was the same one he wanted to hear for the rest of his existence.

They stood frozen a moment, just staring at one another, before breaking at the same time. She came to him faster than he could hobble to her with the dull clunk of his wooden foot on the floor but they met in the middle all the same. He dropped his cane, feeling strong enough to wrap both arms around her as she flung herself at him.

John's eyes peeked over her shoulder and Blake nodded at him before pulling the door shut to give them privacy. Privacy that allowed John to turn his head and kiss Anna. Privacy that meant when he set her down so he could sit on the bed no one had to pretend they did not notice his grimace of pain or lack of balance.

Anna quickly took the spot next to him, smoothing her hands over his face. It was as if she needed to touch every part of his body to assure herself he was not a dream. And John did not mind. She could keep her hands on him forever if the situation allowed.

Eventually her voice tremored to speak. "Is it really you?"

"It's me." He nodded, catching her hand with his, holding it tightly. "You've no idea how I've longed to see you."

"It's been almost fourteen years John." She whispered, tears coming to her eyes. "Fourteen years I've been without you, thinking you were dead."

"I tried to get word out but they stopped all my letters."

"Then," Anna bit her lip, "Did anyone tell you about your mother?"

John nodded, "I had someone in one of the camps they kept me in who got that bit of news out because I could get it back to headquarters but nothing else."

"I guess thy didn't trust a hitman."

"At least that's all they thought I was."

"Mr. Blake said they almost executed you as a spy."

John sighed with another nod, "Green did his damndest but I guess he was just sore I stabbed him near the heart. I heard he had trouble with it for years."

"The trouble for him now is that it's not beating anymore."

John raised his eyebrows, "You killed him?"

"No, James got that honor given he left James mute and scarred but I was there." Anna stroked over his face again, "I've so much to say and I've been waiting so long to say it that now I've lost all the words."

"Tell me about how you got out." John adjusted to get his leg on the bed and Anna stopped.

"Is it uncomfortable?"

"It's a process and it's not perfect yet but it's better than having to use two crutches all the time, that I can tell you." John shook off her worry, "It's nothing I can't learn to manage and live with, I promise."

"I hope so." Anna would not meet his eyes, "I truly hope so."

John frowned, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"I know we didn't know one another long before you thought I died but..." John put a hand on her knee, "I think I'm a good enough read of people to know when they've got something on their chest they want to let off."

Anna twisted the blanket under them in her fingers. "You heard about your mother's death but what else do you know?"

"I hope you found her and lived with her but none of the information I received about her death told me anything." John swallowed, "I wanted to imagine you living happily somewhere and I did but I feared the worst Anna. I feared Green found you, I feared you were still trapped in Berlin… I feared you were dead."

"Like I thought you were?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll ease some of your fears and tell you that I did go to Ireland, like you said." Anna took a breath, "Perhaps not as soon as you wanted me too but I had to act like Jane for a stretch. I had to sell Bricker's things, I had to close accounts… it helped immensely that everyone thought I was the poor girl who lost father and fiancé on the same day while surviving a kidnapping but it still took weeks."

She shrugged a shoulder, "I also had to find a way to dispose of the body in the shed."

"What body?"

"The butler to that house knew I wasn't Jane the first day and he tried to kill me so I killed him instead." Anna shook her head, "I just burned the shed and tried to pass it off as a freak accident. Everyone believed I was cursed after that but it did mean I left Berlin all the faster."

"And you went to Ireland?"

"I did." Anna smiled, "And I went to our mother's like I asked."

"Good," John closed his eyes, sighing with relief from the bottom of his soul, "That's wonderful."

"She was the help I needed."

"Help?" John frowned, confused. "Help for what?"

"I had a baby, John, I couldn't manage him on my own." Anna covered her mouth, eyes widening, "That's not how I wanted to tell you. I'm so sorry. I-"

John stopped her, hands going over hers to pull them from her mouth, "You had a baby?"

"Your son." Anna managed a small smile, "John Smith Bates."

"I've a son?"

"He's beautiful John. He's got your hair and my eyes and your height." Anna laughed, "He's twelve this month and already taller than me."

John's eyes teared, "I've a son?"

"Yes." Anna held John's hands in hers. "He's yours, there's no doubt."

"That's not-" John stopped himself, shaking his head, "That was never in question."

They sat in silence a moment before John spoke again, "What does he know about me?"

"He thinks his father died nobly in nineteen-thirty-three in Berlin."

"What else?"

"Everything wonderful your mother and I knew about you." Anna sighed, "I don't know if I even considered how to tell him if you were alive."

"Since you thought me dead?"

Anna nodded, "I didn't even know you could be alive until we cornered Green after he escaped prosecution at his trial. He's the one who told me and I didn't want to believe it because I couldn't bear it if he were lying and then to let my heart think you were and have it crushed all over I couldn't-"

"Anna," John waited for her to look at him, "I think we've spent too long trying to understand why we've been denied so much. Too long thinking we lost our chances. I'd like to look forward with a bit more hope if we can."

"Yes."

"Then I'd like to propose something you may not like." John took a breath, "We need to get married. I know it's quick but-"

"I do."

John stared at her, "I hadn't even asked you."

"I do." Anna giggled at his face before taking it in her hands. "We've lived too long in fear and trembling, John. I'd like to live in hope for a bit."

"We've endured thick and thin together."

"Thin and thinner more like."

"But all the same," John removed her hands from his face to hold them in his, running his thumbs over her knuckles. "I think we're done watching from the sidelines as the other endures danger. I want to risk it all with you Anna, to be everything for you like I believe you are for me."

"Even though our relationship was founded on lies and deceits?"

"We never lied to each other." John's voice lowered, "You were the truest thing in my life. Then or any time."

"And you were mine." Anna leaned forward, "And I do, John, in case that wasn't clear."

* * *

Registrar's Office, London 1947

Anna grinned as John slid the ring on her finger. He beamed back at her, the two of them almost giggling like idiots before the small gathering in the office. At John's shoulder, standing almost as tall, was John Jr. Or, as Anna usually referred to him, Jack.

They kissed briefly, Anna scowling at her son's grimace, and pulled back to accept the congratulations given by those gathered. Jack handed his father's cane over and Anna tried to hold back her excitement at the sight of Jack and John continuing to bond. It had not been easy for them, given Jack's belief that his father was dead, but slowly they grew together.

John offered Anna his arm and they walked out into the sunshine together. Anna shivered with the cold but tucked herself into John's side as they ducked into the car. Jack helped hand them their bags and Anna leaned over to grab his hand before he could run off.

"Remember, you're on best behavior for the Crawleys, do you understand?"

"I'll be the picture of obedience." Jack grinned, "George's going to teach me how to shoot."

"Just don't shoot around anyone." Anna sighed, "I can't… I can't think about what you could do with your aim."

"It'll be fine Mum." Jack kissed her cheek and held out a hand to John. "And have a safe trip… Dad."

"Thank you." John shook his hand before leaning forward slightly. The hug relaxed after a moment but both broke it quickly. "Be safe."

"I've never anything but." Jack grinned, practically bounding away as he shut the door.

John sighed, "Does it get easier?"

"It's just time." Anna put a hand on his knee, massaging there, "He loves you and you love him. That's the most important bridge."

"Yes it is." John interlaced their fingers. "Now where is this place you planned for our honeymoon?"

"You'll see." Anna grinned and tapped the front seat. "We're ready."

They drove out of the city and stopped close to the coast. When they got out of the car Anna opened her hands toward the ocean. "I believe there was talk once, between you and our dearly departed friend Mr. Talbot, of wanting to end it all on a beach somewhere."

"It's perfect." John pointed with his cane, "Is that the cabin?"

"Yes it most certainly is." Anna led the way there, the driver bringing their bags and leaving them on the porch before John paid him. "I do hope you like it."

"I'd like any place as long as it's with you."

"Charmer." Anna smiled at him, opening the door to lead them inside. The tour was short, given the size of the location, and Anna ended it in bedroom. She turned to John, "What do you think?"

"I think, if it's not too impolite to say, that I'd like to use that bed immediately." John pointed just behind Anna lowering his voice. "Because I'd like us to be together, for the first time, without the threat of death hanging over our heads."

Anna closed her eyes, nodding in time with the whispers of John's breath over her neck as he closed in. "Yes please."

It took time to get one another undressed. Their fingers fumbled with a bit of nervousness as the adrenaline pumped a tad slower when they were not racing the clock or death. The giggles and nervous snorts as they managed buttons and clasps tried to ease the shaking in their fingers but it all built the tension until John and Anna stood together at the edge of the bed.

John maneuvered himself to sit and Anna helped released the straps and buckles that kept his prosthetic on. Her hands skimmed over the scar tissue there and she pressed a kiss to the area before looking up at John. "We've lost so much John."

"We're not losing anymore Anna." He offered her his hand. "We won't lose anymore."

Anna smiled, moving up to straddle her husband as he pushed himself toward the headboard. "I like the sound of that."

"Good." John's fingers brushed over her skin. "I hope you don't mind if I take it slow."

"We've never had a chance for that before." Anna paused, her fingers wrapping his wrist a moment, "But I think we're very different people now."

"Is that a problem?"

"No," She shook her head, easing the lines of worry that creased his forehead. "I just… I haven't been this way, with anyone, since the night before the wedding."

"Neither have I." John sighed, "And we are different but it'll be alright Anna. We'll be alright."

"I know." Anna held him close, breathing in time with him, "I just want to be here with you."

"Then we'll be here." His fingers moved again and Anna gasped as he tickled over her stomach. "It'll be like I'm learning you all over again."

"I'd like to learn you over again." Anna traced her lips over his cheekbones, trailing from his ear to his neck while his fingers played at her nerves. "Find out who we are now."

"We're together," John breathed, slipping a finger between her folds to stroke over her. "That's what we are."

"Yes." Anna whispered, pressing herself to his attentions as her hands mapped his shoulders and chest.

They moved slowly, both conscious of bodies far more susceptible to aches and twinges than before. John's skills had not waned, though the callouses and roughness to him made it different than Anna remembered, and she fell over the edge under his attentions. Her own muscles soon proved their superior memory when she not only responded to him but also led her to focus on the erogenous zones that left him as wrecked and gasping as she.

Soon they lay beside one another, Anna's leg over his hip, as John pumped into her slowly. She shifted to adjust her position and leave her crying out with every rut of his pelvic bone against her nerves. Her fingers curved their crescent-shaped indentations into his ass while his mouth rediscovered her breasts. The only sounds they needed were the moans and whimpers as they chased the high they had forgotten for so long together.

When they finished, laying wrapped in one another, Anna rested her head on John's chest. She took a deep breath before speaking softly, as if raising her voice would ruin the moment. "I never thought I could be this happy."

"I never allowed myself to believe I could be this happy." John's ringer finger clinked against hers while he maneuvered his hand into position with hers. "But here we are."

"Here we are." Anna kissed him, "Who we were always meant to be."


	20. Drink One for Me

Belfast, Ireland 1949

She rested her head on the lintel and smiled when a hand massaged the back of her neck. "That feels heavenly."

"I thought you might deserve something nice." John's voice at her ear left a trill up Anna's spine. "Seeing as you've been fighting all day."

"It's just teething. Jack was about this bad." Anna nodded toward the room where a little girl slept. "But she's finally sleeping."

"Then I should help you sleep too." He kissed her neck and she rested back into him. "You've worked so hard today and I think you deserve to relax a bit."

"That sounds spectacularly lovely." Anna turned into him, settling herself in John's open arms. "Jack's at a friend's and we're all on our own."

"Except for her." John whispered, nodding toward the cot in the bedroom.

"She won't know." Anna hissed, smiling at him as they held one another.

"Hopefully not for a few more years." John led her into their room, propping the door open a crack so they could hear any sounds from the other room.

"It was easier with Jack." Anna teased, her fingers slipping John loose from his buttons. "He slept like a dream and your mother usually held him at night because she never slept."

"Was that the only reason it was easier?"

Anna paused, frowning a moment before leaning forward to whisper in John's ear as she backed him up toward the bed. "Well I didn't have my gorgeous husband to seduce me so I guess there was never a worry about waking anyone up."

"Didn't that make it harder?"

"There were times I dreamed about you." Anna eased him out of his shirt, dropping it to the floor. "Times I wished I could curl up next to you when Jack was sick or when I'd wake up from a memory and remember that you were dead."

"Does that mean it's easier for you now?"

"We've got a little girl in the next room with terrible screams when she's finicky so I'd say that's all your fault."

John moved his lips over her neck, fingers gliding over her skin under her shirt as he moved it slowly up her torso. "Why's that my fault?"

"Because without you, she wouldn't be here."

"Oh," John let her shirt drop to the floor, working his fingers around the back of her brassiere to let it fall and join it. "So I'm to blame because I can't keep my hands to myself around my gorgeous wife?"

"Very much so." Anna set her hands on his thighs, leaning toward him to sigh as he let his kisses track the barely visible veins from her neck to her breasts. "If not for you, I'd still be sleeping through the night and-"

Her breath caught as John teethed gently over a nipple. Anna almost swatted his shoulder when she felt him smile around it but then moaned when he sucked at her. Digging her fingers into his thighs, she shifted forward to offer him more.

John moved his hands over her back, smoothing her skin from the line of her skirt to the tops of her shoulders. Anna removed her fingers from his trouser legs and worked her skirt buttons loose enough to shimmy out of it. Her slip fell off next and soon her knickers slid down her legs for her to kick away. She put her hands to his shoulder and pressed forward with her arms to put John on his back on the mattress.

Bouncing a moment, he grinned at her when he laid back against the pillows. Anna ran her hands over his trousers and unbuttoned them before tugging them down his legs. When they caught on his shoes they both laughed until Anna worked them loose. Hollow thumps hit the floor in time with Anna's exploration up his legs. She tickled at the top of his prosthetic before it hit the floor as well.

They stared at one another and Anna held John's gaze when she kissed around the scar tissue. When her nose nudged the edge of his pants she tugged them loose to leave him as exposed as she. Her hands slipped up toward his hips and held there as her lips followed to kiss over his legs.

He shifted under her, reaching to hold at her shoulders when she kissed around the base of his erection. She paused when John gripped harder at her shoulder. Anna frowned and stroked her fingers over him instead.

"What?"

"I thought this was about you relaxing and sleeping."

"I find this relaxing." She paused, nails teasing over his skin to leave him groaning into his hand. "Don't you find it relaxing?"

John could not respond as she licked a stripe over him. His fingers clutched at the sheets under them when she took him in her mouth. Between teeth and tongue she left him wrecked and groaning under her.

Anna worked her way up his body and leaned over to kiss him. His hands tried to maneuver her but Anna shook her head, drawing back. She moved around to face his legs and massaged over his thighs. John's fingers scrambled to reach for her, slipping over her folds while she struggled not to moan. Pressing down on his thighs Anna shifted up and worked her way down his erection until he could go no further.

They both stopped, easing their breathing, and Anna lifted on her knees to sink back down again. John's fingers sank into the flesh of her hips and he worked his hips to thrust upward. Anna groaned in her throat, trying to keep silent, and rocked against him. When she twisted they both grunted.

He sat up behind him, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold Anna to his chest. Leaning her head back on his shoulder, Anna tightened her grip around John with her knees to better control her motions. The slight squeak to their bed only added tempo to their motions and when John bit at Anna's shoulder she sank her nails into his thighs.

With a vibrating groan, John finished first. His final stuttering movements had Anna whimpering and when he added his fingers to her nerves it was all she needed to join him over the edge. They sat there a moment until John leaned back on the bed, bringing Anna with him, and turned to his side so his chest was still to her back.

Anna turned over her shoulder to kiss him, "Thank you. That was very relaxing."

"I'm glad I could be of assistance." John grinned, kissing over her shoulders before returning to her mouth. "I love you."

"And I love you." Anna laid her head on the pillow, pulling his arm around her to intertwine their fingers.

* * *

London, England 1953

John waited for Anna to release Jack before offering his hand, the other holding a squirming girl who kept trying to pull her bonnet away from her head. "Congratulations Jack. This is an amazing accomplishment."

"Thanks Dad." He waited a moment for John to shift the little girl to Anna's arms and then hugged him. It was not as long as his with Anna but John relished it all the same. After so many missed years they could hope for this much. "Some friends want to go for holiday, now that we're free, and I hope you won't mind."

"Of course not." Anna smiled, shifting the little girl as Jack bent to kiss her. "She'll miss you terribly."

"And we will too." John added, noting Jack's smile brighten a bit at that. 'Just keep safe."

"We're planning a little European tour, nothing fancy." Jack turned his head as someone called for him. "I'll be back at the hotel for supper and then we're all off tomorrow afternoon."

"Don't late for dinner." Anna nodded at Lizzie before handing her over to John when the girl reached for her father. "Lizzie's been out too long today and if we leave her too late she'll be an absolute terror."

"Ah, she's not so bad." Jack winked at her. "I was so much worse."

"Only when you got old enough to get muddy." Anna kissed Jack's cheek. "Army Medical Corps, what a treat for us."

"It's a way to serve." Jack nodded at them, waving off someone else calling his name. "I won't be late for dinner, I promise."

He bounded off, joining with a few other friends as Anna managed the pram and John shifted Lizzie to his left arm so his right could hold his cane. John came up to Anna's side, nudging him with his arm. "Are you alright?"

"It's just-" Anna stopped, wiping at her eyes, "He's all grown up John."

"He was going to do that." John soothed as Lizzie leaned around him to wipe her tiny fingers over Anna's face.

"Not sad, happy." She urged and both John and Anna laughed.

"I'm very happy sweetie." Anna kissed Lizzie, who giggled and buried her head in her father's shoulder. "Just going to miss him."

"You know," John set the pace, moving Lizzie to her pram when she yawned. "We should take a holiday ourselves."

"Oh should we?"

"Yes," John leaned on his cane. "Now that Lizzie's older she won't be much more for The Gillinghams to handle and Mary's always going on about wanting to take a holiday herself."

Anna laughed, "So you're suggesting we offer a swap. Our Lizzie for a week long holiday and then we'll take their children?"

"Of course."

"They've got four, John. Twins and another two under the age of three."

"Afraid of a challenge, Mrs. Bates?"

"I'm afraid of their children."

John shrugged, "I'll manage them. You've only got to worry about work."

"You'll manage them?"

"I can still move." John knocked his knuckles against his leg a moment, winking at Anna. "And if they misbehave I'll pull this thing off and then they'll be terrified."

"You'll scar those poor dears."

"Better scarred then disobedient." John joked and dodged Anna's half-hearted swat at him. "Besides, it'll give me real experience for when I have to write my memoirs of the war."

"I think you'll find it hard to publish something that needs as many lines to redact as it takes to write." Anna sighed, stopping the pram at the corner, "But you're right, we do need a holiday."

"I'm glad you agree." John grinned, kissing her cheek to whisper in her ear. "Because I know exactly where we'll go."

"Do you now?" Anna raised an eyebrow, "How long've you been planning this holiday?"

"Not long."

"I highly doubt that."

"I don't know…" John crossed the street to the Underground. "How long is long?"

"Why?"

"Because I don't think twenty years is a long time." John smiled at Anna, "Not when I've got you."

* * *

Prague, 1954

Anna exhaled, giggling a bit as John nuzzled his nose in her hair. "You've been planning this for twenty years?"

"Well," John propped himself up on one arm, using the other to trail his fingers down her arm. "We did come here once under the guise of being married and it was the most alive I've ever felt."

"I remember how you kissed me then." Anna brought her finger to trace his lips, "It's the same way you kiss me everyday."

"I did say that I'd only ever kiss my wife that way." John's smile fell a bit and the weight of the room shifted. "I promised you we'd be together in another life Anna."

"And we've got that better life John." Anna pushed his hair back from his forehead. "Last time we were in this room I couldn't have seen this as a possibility."

"I didn't either." John pulled her closer, shifting her so her back was to his chest. "But I did promise, last time, that if we'd had more time I wouldn't leave."

"You did." Anna smiled as John's hands worked around her, taking their place on her breasts again to massage there. "And I'm glad you can this time."

"This time," John kissed over her neck and shoulders, allowing the unhurried motions of his hands to leave her sighing with steadily escalating breaths. "I think I'd like to continue appreciating my wife."

"I'm yours to appreciate."

John growled into the skin of her back while the fingers of his other hand moved down her body. His right leg nudged hers apart and left her exposed to the experienced ministrations that had Anna reaching back to rake her fingers through his hair. When he sunk a finger into her Anna turned her head to the pillow to quiet her shrieks of ecstasy.

Soon her body writhed against him, pressing herself back to the evidence of his own arousal. Anna risked a hand to pull John closer, nails scoring a pattern over his ass, and John responded quickly. As he sank inside her they paused, breathing hard.

Anna chuckled, "We're getting too old for this."

"Nonsense," John drew out to thrust back in, "We're just right."

"We didn't need breathers when we did this the last time we were here." Anna almost bit into the pillow at John's next strike, his thumb flicking over her nerves before rubbing counter to his thrusts.

"Death bit at our heels then."

"Not now?"

"Now, we get to bask in one another and enjoy life." John stopped, "Like I enjoy you."

Anna held him close, "I don't fear death right now John."

"Neither do I."

They finished and Anna shifted to look at John. "I'd do it all over again."

"Me too." John kissed her forehead, "If it meant I'd get to have you all over again, I'd endure it all."

"However, whatever, whenever."

John nodded, "But now I've got you to myself, all good and proper."

"For good and proper." Anna rested her head on his shoulder. "To a better life John."

"To a better life." They were silent a moment before John spoke again, "We'll need to actually get our own coffees this time."

"Yes, one for each person." Anna took a breath, "And for our next holiday we need a real beach."

"Hawaii?" John grinned and Anna nodded.

"I could manage a swimsuit for that."

"I was thinking about you out of the swimsuit."

"John!" Anna swatted his shoulder and they laughed together before sobering. "One for each of them."

"One for each." John kissed her hand. "And one for me."

"You?"

"Because I was dead and now I'm not."

"Alright," Anna ran her hand over his face, "And one for you."


End file.
